I Had to cook again today because the part-time cook we hired to replace the drunken cook who was deported, kept putting anthrax on the powered doughnuts. So we had to fire him. Who would have thought that an ex Iraqi army major would have a grudge against us here in America. No biggie. This time I only parboiled one finger. I did, however, manage to slice my arm up to the elbow. How did that happen? You might wonder. Well. I will tell you. One of the other ditsy bitches I work with wasn’t watching where she was going and bumped into my bloody Mary. In order to save my morning Elixer, I made a diving catch which knocked the chef knife from the counter to the floor. Of course I landed on it and slid about four feet. I saved my drink though. Then I got up and beat the shit out of her. Now I not only had to cook but I had to serve it as well. About twenty minutes into the lunch rush it occurred to me that I had fallen behind my beer quota. It didn’t take me long to catch up, but apparently longer than the customers wanted it to. About the third person that complained, I snapped. You should have seen the carnage that followed. When the smoke cleared and I sat down to enjoy my after the ass whoopin margarita, and called a friend to help hide the bodies. Somewhere around Midnight we finished feeding the carcases to the cats. Of course it would take us till dawn to get all of the internal organs scraped of the wall. The good news was the when it was all over and the other cook came in, the bar was open, so my friend and I could get a desperately needed drink.