A Lurker
Posted by Kmk /dd on Sunday, June 7, 2009
Dinner last night was a triumph; Salmon Escalopes in Lemon and Caper Butter. Everyone loved it – only Tom gave it the evil eye and muttered just loud enough for me to know he didn’t like it; not loud enough that I could make out what he said. Cops! *rolls eyes*
Something sinister though, might have been afoot. The galley reeked to high heaven of bleach but not a trace was found. There was a trail of tiny ash mounds at 3-foot intervals leading from the stove all the way up to the cabins. A quick rummage through the garbage bin revealed a crushed Silk Cut package and numerous butts. John?!? No!! Why would he? Unless...!! It had to be!
“KNOWSFOOD!!!!”
I knew it! He was playing mind games with me - trying to wreck my dinner and throw off the scent. Why that pseudo French son of a so-and-so! He was still on board .... but where? Luca is not going to like this; or John for that matter. The thought ofJohn taking aim at Knowsfood with a dragon’s breath thrower, going “Go ahead Francophile foodie punk, make my day”, certainly made my evening.
“So you want your job back, do ya??! Do ya?!” I yelled, at no one in particular, turning round in circles, in case he was behind me, with a cleaver in hand. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember how to deliver a roundhouse kick. Two years of martial arts training, down the drain. “You better hope John or Tom don’t catch up with you!”
I grabbed a pen from the drawer and scribbled frenziedly on the post-it pad, my other hand clenched so tightly around the handle of a meat bat, my knuckles were turning white. On my way out, I stuck the note on the fridge door. I knew he was still around, lurking.
“Call me Knowsfood - if you’re too chicken to tell me to my face. Now I really need someone here from Friday, for the next two weeks, ok? You got that? Two weeks! Call me!!”
Something sinister though, might have been afoot. The galley reeked to high heaven of bleach but not a trace was found. There was a trail of tiny ash mounds at 3-foot intervals leading from the stove all the way up to the cabins. A quick rummage through the garbage bin revealed a crushed Silk Cut package and numerous butts. John?!? No!! Why would he? Unless...!! It had to be!
“KNOWSFOOD!!!!”
I knew it! He was playing mind games with me - trying to wreck my dinner and throw off the scent. Why that pseudo French son of a so-and-so! He was still on board .... but where? Luca is not going to like this; or John for that matter. The thought ofJohn taking aim at Knowsfood with a dragon’s breath thrower, going “Go ahead Francophile foodie punk, make my day”, certainly made my evening.
“So you want your job back, do ya??! Do ya?!” I yelled, at no one in particular, turning round in circles, in case he was behind me, with a cleaver in hand. Suddenly, I couldn’t remember how to deliver a roundhouse kick. Two years of martial arts training, down the drain. “You better hope John or Tom don’t catch up with you!”
I grabbed a pen from the drawer and scribbled frenziedly on the post-it pad, my other hand clenched so tightly around the handle of a meat bat, my knuckles were turning white. On my way out, I stuck the note on the fridge door. I knew he was still around, lurking.
“Call me Knowsfood - if you’re too chicken to tell me to my face. Now I really need someone here from Friday, for the next two weeks, ok? You got that? Two weeks! Call me!!”