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.

Yesterday as I fed my pet whale Jimmy, I noticed he had outgrown the champagne glass I had been keeping him in. So, I went to a store that sold fish supplies. I asked the clerk if he had a fairly large fish bowl. He showed me an assortment of Beta bowls. I told him that they were just a little too small. Then he showed me a few goldfish bowls. They were a little better, but somehow still inadequate. I suggested he show me some of his aquariums. He sold me a ten gallon tank complete with colored gravel and a little castle for Jimmy to swim through. When I crammed my pet whale in his new tank, it was apparent that it was just a tad too small. Although he really enjoyed swimming through his castle. Still I had to return to the store to exchange his new tank. The clerk was happy to exchange the tank for a larger one. However, he was a little confused. He asked me what size bowl I had had my fish in to begin with. I explained that I had been keeping him in a champaign glass. That confused him. How could my pet fish be too big for a ten gallon tank if I had been keeping him in a champagne glass. As confused as he was, he never asked what kind of fish I had. He just sold me a fifty gallon tank for the difference in price and let it be. Even though it gave Jimmy a little more swim space, it still wasn’t quite big enough. Then I had good idea. I took Jimmy’s castle over to Mr. Johnsons jacuzzi, turned down the heater, and dropped Jimmy in. Now he is a happy whale, but I don’t think Mr. Johnson appreciates the company.