Overcooked

Note: This story was a contest entry for the "Something About Cliche" Contest - Mar. 19, 2011 edition. To view the contest rules, click on Contest Rules:

Yes the rules:

1. MUST FOLLOW PROMPT AND WORD COUNT (or be disqualified.)
2. Word count : 300-800 words. (I have a short attention... ooohhhh look a kitty)
3. Bitem format. {Bitem:number of entry} (no spaces)
4. I dont care about grammar. But if I have a guest judge who does I will say so in the prompt, but if there is HUGE Duh type mistakes I will call you on it... use caution, just dont be sloppy. oh and I have spell check, I suggest you may want to use yours too... (remember Pete and Re-pete... and if you don't know this one, just ask)


This will be a weekly contest, run Sunday to Sunday so you have from 12:05am Sunday, then Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday night by 12:00 midnight to write, re-write, edit and polish, and get it in for it to count. (you may enter anytime during the week you piece is done but it will not count if it is in after 12:05 am WDC time Sunday Morning)  I hope to have contest reviewed and judged by Monday morning at the latest, and new prompt will be posted by me or guest judge by 12:30AM WDC time Sunday Morning.

Ok Since this is a first contest, Prizes will be 1,000 GPs for first, 500 for 2nd and 100 for 3rd place.  As this contest grows and get more popular, these prizes will increase. Three entries for contest to be judged. If there are less then 3 entries, 100 gp for entering and no prizes will be awarded that week. Possibly a Merit badge for a monthly winner as funds allow.

Now on with the Show!

Prompt:
Week Two:
Start with "Go fry an egg." and take off writing like a rocket! Please remember to enter in bitem format and keep it under 800 words (including a word count would be nice) remember the only cliche you can use is go fry an egg and keep me wanting to read more! spelling and Duh grammar mistakes do count this week! There will be two Judges this week also, me and another WDC member!

(ITEM ID 1757085)

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Overcooked

By Indelibleink

"Go fry an egg. If that's what the boss wants me to do, then that's exactly what Chef Charlie does..."

The grizzled old man paused, looked at his lone customer, and chuckled. "Now don't you worry, sonny. I've been doing this for 'bout twenty years now, and I haven't had one complaint yet." He then leaned down closer to the young man's face. "The secret, you see, is all in the preparation."

William Jenkins, however, was less interested in the methodology than he was the experience, let alone the results. Not totally buying into Charlie's supposedly impeccable service record, he said nothing, but his increasingly intense grasp of the arms on his chair said otherwise.

The young man's apparent uneasiness did not escape Chef Charlie's attention. "Young feller...If it'll calm your nerves any, I'm right proud to tell you that some say I'm simply the fastest short-order cook to be found in these United Sates of America. You just relax, and let Chef Charlie take special care of you, okay?" 

Billy wanted to speak, but words were not forthcoming. Besides, it was difficult for the freshly-shaved soul to focus on his verbalizing as he watched Chef Charlie create some kind of strange gelatinous concoction in the large wooden mixing bowl only a foot in front of Billy’s face.

“Like I said, son, the whole key here is in the preparation.” The old guy gave the mixture a couple of more stirs with the large wooden spoon. “How’s this look? Want to sneak a taste?” He then held the gel-laden spoon close to Billy’s mouth. “No? I think it’s about right, but suit yourself.” Chef Charlie then stepped back, fumbled with and lost control of the spoon, which fell to the floor, beneath the table in front of Billy. “Damn! I’m sorry, kid. It looks like some splashed on your pants leg. Don’t you worry none – Chef Charlie will take care of everything.”

Billy wanted to look down and see exactly what the old man was up to, yet he was unable to bring himself to doing so. All he knew was that he suddenly felt a large amount of what had to be Chef Charlie’s gel being applied to the outside of Billy’s bare right leg. This was immediately followed by what felt like a cold steel rod pressed into the gel and strapped firmly to his leg.

Chef Charlie emerged from below and stood up, both hands covered with the gook that once resided in the mixing bowl. “Glad that’s over with. Getting’ down there like that…I’m not as young as I used to be.” Charlie reached over and applied the gel to Billy’s shaved head. “Now this is going to feel right cold, son. But don’t you worry…we got a cap that I guarantee will warm you up right quick.” Charlie laughed at the irony inherent in the statement, and then disappeared behind Billy.

Moments later, Billy felt the cap of metal being pushed onto his bald pate, and the subsequent oozing of gel as it seeped out around the edges. As the straps were tightened to ensure a perfect fit, Charlie wiped the excess gel from around Billy’s head. He also took an extra second to wipe the tears that were now starting to stream down Billy’s face, and he leaned down to whisper into his ear.

“You’re doing fine, son. I’ve had some guys in here in the past that have screamed for their mamas – that’s why we use the mouthpiece now - and peed and pooped their pants even before reaching this point. You’re doing yourself right proud.”

Chef Charlie then produced a black hood and placed it over Billy’s head, since the procedure usually caused the eyeballs to pop from their sockets and come to rest on the cheekbone – not a pleasant sight for even the toughest of witnesses.

“Okay son, we’re right on schedule. I do hope you made your peace with the priest earlier.”

Chef Charlie then gave Billy a slap on the back, moved his mobile equipment table off to the side, and gave the warden the “go-ahead” sign. The warden opened the curtains from which behind a glass window sat those who had cause to witness the event.

At the warden’s signal, Chef Charlie applied the juice and fried his third egg of 1908 in the state of New York.

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Words: 730