scopekvm.blogg.se

I grabbed the oven cleaner and placed it on the counter, hoping that would satisfy her urge to instruct.

I knew where we kept the de-greaser, the window spray, and the tray sanitizer.

Her micromanaging hints just slowed down the close out process. I’d hoped she’d stay in the office until final inspection. That meant Irina, the Fry Hut manager, was headed my way. I hit decline.īefore I could return to my recipe, I heard the jangle of keys on a key ring and the tap of sensible pumps on the brushed concrete floor. I wiped my sticky fingers on the polyester leg of my uniform and took the phone off the supply rack. My ringtone jangled out the classic, Teenage Dirt-bag, effectively interrupting my recording. You think he’ll spend the summer with you before he goes off to college? I cranked up the heat. The potato danced in the oil like a revved up concert-goer. I gave the words energy and released the potato. My fingers tightened on the vegetable as I thought about my ex, Evan. Heat warmed my forearm, and I leaned away while trying to keep in the frame. Next, I drizzled spray cheese into the core and held it above the commercial-sized fry vat. I lifted the spud in range of my cell phone camera. Think of this potato as your ex-boyfriend. Garrett Campbell needs a personal chef- the Garrett Campbell.

Thanks! You’re awesome: Michelle, Teresa, Veronica, Jennifer, Stacy, Joellen, Barbie, Brennan, Joseph, Megan, Mishann, Rachel, Wayne, Darlene, Jeff, Heather, Trevor, Mom & Dad.