for a preface, see the home page of my work stories: Paradise (aka The Job)
A few Saturdays ago, I finished a 13-hour shift, known in our kitchen as a "double shift." I drove my little rust-jeweled car to the liquor store and picked up a bottle of bubbly. I got home, set the wine to chill, and settled into pajamas in front of Skyrim and then Miss Fischer's Murder Mysteries.
Glass after glass of Cook's Brut (cheap bubbly), I raised a giddy good riddance toast to former resident Mr. Placemats, all his chauvinism, all his rudeness, all his loud insults, all his fake friendliness, all his antics, and especially to the fact that none of these would be the concern of our facility any more.
Ahem: quoth the raven, nevermore. (BTW: Blogger's spellcheck thinks "quoth" is spelled incorrectly. Think again, Blogger.)
My original plan had been to toast each individual antic and memory separately, but my calculations led me to believe this would end in a blood alcohol level of 99.9% and death (not necessarily in that order), so I chose to simply get good and buzzed on bubbly in general celebration of Mr. Placemat moving back to his house.
It wasn't until this past week that I, to my surprise, heard yet again his dreaded name uttered in our halls.
Turns out he's been seen in the coffee shop of our facility, sipping from our mugs and reading our paper, doubtless uninvited by any current resident. Next thing, he'll be trying to sneak into the breakfast buffet or to a noon meal. I left a note on the white board to the high schoolers, hoping they'll charge him for meals if he tries this on the weekend, as he doesn't live here anymore and therefore does not pay room or board.
Just when we thought we were free of the devil, he returns to repossess the halls that were sanctified upon his departure. Now we have to get the holy water out again...
Where's your "harem," you so brazenly bragged of organizing, Sir Placemats? Are they not making you coffee at home? AKA elsewhere?
I have the strangest sensation that this nightmare will be revisited. My fingers involuntarily are finishing this episode with the ominous phrase, "TO BE...CONTINUED."
Duhn duhn duhhhhhn!
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