Kitchen Nightmare: Micro-Tales Archive

It was supposed to be my day off. 

Of course my phone was blowing up with the usual...

“I’m sick boss”

“My pinky hurts boss”

“Hey boss I’m going to be late, my girlfriend got bit by a radioactive fly”

You know how it goes. 

As I slipped on my chef coat I had an unusual amount of energy. I supposed it could have been the bump from a few minutes prior kicking in. Who really knows? 

All dressed, coffee in hand, I head out the door. I turn on my favorite Avatar song, shift into first gear and drive the fuck off. Literally nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen. 

It begins with three dead bodies in the parking lot of the restaurant. Fucking dead. 

Okay..this is..fine?

Why I proceed to enter that kitchen is beyond me, but I did. 

Everything looks normal. 

Customers in seats, pint glasses pressed to their lips. Chatter. Smiles? 

What? Okay. That blow is really kicking in. Those couldn’t have been dead bodies out there, no way in hell. 

I clock in. 

I walk into the kitchen and immediately turn to panic mode. 

What in the actual fuck?  

From the moment I stepped through the swinging door, I am playing a game of Pac-Man. Turning the opposite direction as him, hiding. Ducking down in any little corner. Fuck these floors are dirty. Who closed last night? I tried my best to trap him in hopes of a valiant murder.

He was a cook I hired a few months back  and has become this evil monster of a person, killing with no remorse for whatever reason. The thing is, the customers don’t know this and are dining per usual. 

The food is going out.

They can’t hear the screams.

The blood.

I can.

I’m trying to sneak out, hoping he doesn’t see me. Big nope. 

He saw me. Fuck. 

I’m the boss and he wants his weird and sick revenge. 

After he slaughters the dishwasher for running the glassware before his precious spatula, he grabs me by the collar and pushes my face on the flat top. 

The smell of my burning flesh blends with the aroma of seasoned beef. 

I start to apologize for not letting him go home early the day before. 

This is honestly ridiculous. 

(This sounds funny but I promise you this was so graphic and horrifying) 

He drags me around the floor telling me how much I am hated. 

Goddammit. He ripped my chef coat. Now I'm pissed. 

Puts my hand on the cutting board and using a cheese grater, begins to shred my fingers one by one. 

They look like little bone bananas with bloody skin peels.

Shinnok looking ass hands.  

I see someone in the corner of my eye try to escape and he swiftly shoots them in the head with a hand cannon. 

There is no getting away. 

I tell him I’ll do anything. I just want to see my family again. 

He doesn’t know that I’m three months pregnant. 

Fuck, if he knew he’d probably want to kill me even more so.

But yet, still, the fucking food goes out. 

Hot and fresh in the window. 

I will die today. 

“Order Up!”