Well it so happened that the drunken cook went to jail and then was deported so I’m stuck cooking until he swims back into the country. This will break up the monotony I guess. It will also give me a chance to really fuck with some food. If you Think I’m an evil waitress, you haven’t seen anything yet. I’m an even more twisted cook. I don’t care about the patrons as it is. I care less about the waitresses. Bitches. I hate other wait staff. They piss me off to no end. They always try to steal my tables, and are constantly being nice to their customers, and that makes me look bad to the untrained eye. A lot of their tickets mysteriously disappeared today. Oops. I used them as meat filler, and as a base for the clam chowder. There was a metal bread tie pounded into a chicken breast sandwich too. Oops. One of them never even got a plate of food for her serving tray because she acted like a big douche. She kept nagging me, “Where is my food? These eggs are cold. I didn’t order that. Is that your toe nail? The water is on fire.” I eventually had to accidentally duct tape her to the slimy shit in the back of the walk-in. Oops. One of the other waitresses started to complain about having to cover the other ones tables. I think the frying pan up side her head cured that problem, because for the rest of the day all I heard from her was motorboat sounds and a couple of squeaks. I can’t wait for breakfast tomorrow. I left the flat top on and put eggs, bacon, and hashed browns on it so that when I come in in the morning, all my cooking will be done. That way all I will have to do is kick back and drink a beer, and point to where the twits can get there food. Crap. I would love to tell you more, but the police and fire marshals are here. They want to know if I know how the fire started and who the charred corpse in the walk-in might be.