Sunday, July 17, 2011
Time to Make the Donuts
He looked at me. I stared him down. His hand reached beneath the counter and I braced the table in case something awful was headed my way. He whipped out a paper hat and tossed it to me. I slipped it onto my newly polished chrome dome and gave him an evil grin. He knew I was hungry and said if I was gonna get yesterday's donuts, I had to prove that I was worthy of eating them.
I jumped the counter and grabbed a broom. In 30 seconds, I swept every inch of that place. Next he handed me a mop. In just under 5 minutes, I had that place spic and span clean. Every chore he gave me was completed in a fraction of the time it took a mortal. Finally an idea came to his mind and he asked me to put on some plastic gloves. Let's just say that isn't the easiest thing to do when you are missing a digit and balancing yourself on one foot.
He took me around to the back of the shop where the flour lay before me on a waist-high table. He demonstrated how to roll the perfect donut. Big whoop. He freakin took a small cup and cut out a hole in the dough and tossed them both into the hot grease. I wasn't having this. I was set to start new things and set this place on fire.(Actually literally in once instance, but I'm not telling you that story right now. Remind me and I will tell you later).
I took the flour and kneed it like a professional. I cut his simple little "holes" and tossed them into the vat of boiling polyunsaturated bliss. They each puffed up beautifully every time. Again, I still wasn't happy. I wanted more. I deserved more. I took some dough and twisted it. Other dough was pressed and pinched until it was in the shape of a star. I took some dough and filled it with creme, some with custard and other with jelly. I was a genius in the art of making pastries. Soon I had the idea to use melted chocolate and an iced glaze concoction on my pastries. Still others were coated in a blizzard of white powered sugar. You would have been amazed at the things I created for that shop keeper. In one day, I had gone from sweeping and mopping his floors to creating the best pastries Crapsville had ever tasted. Unfortunately, there is a downside to my story.
The only other customer in the store that day was the health inspector. Lol. Seems he had something to say about the owner/shop keeper taking a homeless skeleton off the street, making him sweep and mop then immediately begin frying pastries without even allowing him to wash his hands. Oh, those were the minutes.... To this day, I can't pass by this place without a good chuckle.... So, if you are ever in Crapsville and find yourself standing in a bakery without a dime to your name, remember this one thing, WASH YOUR NASTY HANDS IF YOU EXPECT TO GET PAID!!!!