So Comey went before Congress again. And again we got Kabuki Theater. His latest performance, like all the previous appearances, confirms that we, the American people are being duped. We are being duped, and worse, we are being played for suckers.
Then came Clapper and Sally Yates. Now there’s two true bastions of unbiased honesty. More Kabuki Theater!
We have reached a dangerous time in America. There are real external threats like Iran, North Korea and Russia. We are in the midst of a religious war being conducted by Radical Islamist Extremists. If they have their way, they will control us all. They will obliterate Jews, Catholics and Christians and enslave moderate Muslims whose most grave error is not standing up to the radical few who would force them to do that to which they do not ascribe.
But much worse than all of the external threats is that our leaders no longer give us truth. Instead, they present us with Kabuki Theater, a show, folks, and nothing more. The left blames Trump for everything, stooping to unheard of personal lows in its rhetoric. The right is derelict in its duties. It had seven years to write a health care bill and did nothing. It can’t get its own act together and continually proves personal interests supersede the interests of the people it represents.
Make no mistake about it. Follow the money. It is all about money. The lefties fund certain organizations and programs. The righties do too, but their organizations and programs are different ones. With the advent of super pacs and lobbyists, the flow of money and the amounts are more hidden than ever. The amounts are up there in the fortunes, millions, billions. Ask yourself: how much money did Hillary get and spend for her campaign? How much did the Dems raise and where did they get it from? Who are they beholden to? You could ask the same about many of the Republicans in Congress and the Senate. Who are they beholden to? Where did they get their money from?
Then, like the proverbial onion, the layer over all the things that are really going on is the play our leaders continually put on for us. Kabuki Theater. They are all postured and made up and costumed. They go on and on, preaching to us about truth and justice and equality. And we are…being duped.
One of the important lessons in teaching rhetoric is the distinction between observation and inference, which boils down to differentiating between fact and opinion. My computer CPU is running at 59°C. That is a fact based upon the program running that lists the CPU temps. My computer is running hot is an opinion. The fact is undeniable, real, observable. The opinion, the inference in this case, is a judgment, subjective and not a fact.
The Kabuki Theater is dangerous. That’s an opinion, by the way. It is dangerous because it purports to be real but is not and it masks the truth. For example, all that talk about how good and wonderful Obamacare was, way back when it was first passed, was Kabuki Theater. If Obamacare was so wonderful for us all, why did Congress pass itself the exemption from it (at the very last minute and in the dark of night)?
The point is our leaders have found their way to the stage but they have lost their way to the truth. In losing their way to the truth, they have lost the ability to lead us and to govern us. We are looking at a modern day Clash of the Titans, where the gods of our Senate and Congress are engaged in a power war wreaking destruction upon us, the American People, with total disregard for our safety and well-being, which is the sole reason for which government exists.
Kabuki Theater.
Coming Soon:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
Well, we can kiss truth goodbye. When you can’t believe the FBI Director and the former Director of National Intelligence was found to have lied under oath… Or maybe we should look at Susan Rice, you know Benghazi video lie, or Hillary herself, who lied to the parents of the deceased while telling her own daughter the truth… Oh the loss of the truth in America is clearly demonstrable and ever-apparent.
I know. The left-leaners will say Trump, Flynn, Manaforte and a whole host of righties lie. But doesn’t that just underscore the point?
Loss of the truth gets worse. It gets downright disgusting. Not only can we not trust politicians, but we are witnessing the complete breakdown of the free and independent Press, and this is more dangerous than any lying politician. The facts are clear. Eighty percent of all news stories regarding President Trump have been negative. It’s unheard of. The media has an anti-Trump agenda and is using its powers to attempt to destroy him. When the free, independent press gets biased, it’s no better than Putin controlling his press in Russia. So, in effect, the Democrats claiming (and still with not one shred of evidence) Trump is connected to Putin who is so bad are actually themselves doing what Putin does–controlling the press and media and now working overtime to destroy Fox News to make it a fait accompli.
This is un-American and the Democrats are moving America into very dangerous waters. They claim to talk for the American people. They profess to know what Americans want and need. At best, they can only speak for the half of the population that didn’t vote for Trump. Their premise and their claim is false to begin with.
Justice got kissed away on that tarmac. If there were any doubt remaining about Obama’s lack-of-justice department, any doubt remaining about the lack of integrity and outright bias, any doubt remaining about its political agenda, that doubt died on that tarmac. The biased media never truly explored the actual connection between Bill Clinton and Loretta Lynch. It never took the time to explore the lack-of-justice department’s attempts to stymie FBI investigation. And James Clapper, DNI, who lied under oath, lied for…Obama, he was a team member rather than a truth teller. Justice? Where? Justice? When? Justice? Anthony Weiner ended up with all Hillary’s classified emails. Where’s justice? Now, Hillary, whose Clinton Foundation is kind of defunct, has begun a new money-collecting scheme to fund the opposition to President Trump. Justice? The Democrats ridicule the very notion of justice, just as they ridicule the very notion of truth. Justice? Calling for impeachment even before inauguration—justice?
The greatest threats to America are no longer external. Russia, China, Iran and North Korea are all external threats and real ones too. ISIS, Islamic Extremist Terrorism, is also an external threat out there and a real one. In fact we are in the midst of a modern-day religious war. Cyber Terrorism is a threat out there. Global warming is not a threat out there, and it is not our greatest threat, as only the money-reaping few like Al Gore would have you believe. It is a concern that needs to be dealt with but kept in its proper place and explored in a truly scientific and unbiased manner.
The real threat to America is internal. It is the persistent and determined undermining of the American Way, of the core premise of our democracy, which is free elections. The Democrats are putting America in true jeopardy and peril, not by their opposition to health care, to budget, to appointments, to anything President Trump does even before he proposes it, but by attempting to destroy his presidency simply because Hillary Clinton, their candidate, did not get elected.
What’s next for Democrats? Destruction of truth and justice is pretty much done. Is destruction of the American Way next? It would seem they will settle for nothing less.
Coming Soon:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
The playbook did not exist prior to election night. The Democrats never imagined, in their wildest imaginings, that they could lose. Hillary and Barack leading them, they were beyond any dream-team ever, interstellar, out of this world. Actually, what they were was beyond conceit, narcissism and hubris. Why, Hillary should have won simply because she’s a woman, just like Barack won because he is black. Yes, twice, in fact, and with 65% of those irredeemable, deplorable, racist whites voting for him.
So considering that they could not conceive of losing, they were at a loss for how to handle the election results. That night was quite interesting, truth be told. The procuring of two ballrooms for the win by the heir-apparent turned into one semi-dark room with people in tears. The music stopped, the lights dimmed, one celebrity peeked in, turned around and left. The networks held off as long as they could. The old refrain that Trump had no road to 270 suddenly turned to Hillary had no road to 270. And in the end, she didn’t have the road. Trump was a better developer than they gave him credit for.
Well, a bit more than eight weeks passed. The Despicable Dems Losing Playbook was being written.
It started with some rioters, the same ones who were paid to go to Trump rallies and start stuff, the same ones who are professional rioters, who go from city to city to create chaos and perpetrate the false racism narrative. It then went to college campuses where the students cried, claimed Trump is not their president and they are afraid.
The riots didn’t gain much steam although they did a lot of property damage. The poor, crying students and libs didn’t get much of a rise, so the Dems’ next play the was what’s-her-name, that’s right she’s so memorable…Jill Stein calling for a recount in three states. Jill Stein had no hope of achieving anything except collecting money, which she did, for her ailing finances. That didn’t go over well, didn’t achieve anything, didn’t gain any traction and fizzled out. She took the money and disappeared.
Then came the first of several Hollywood-should-be-ashamed-of tapes, videos that are comical, but which show how out of touch those people are. These are still ridiculed and laughed at. Oh Madonna! Oh Ashley Judd, you nasty woman!
So, Obama was called in to take the big steps. First was to call foul with the cyber attack alleged to Russia. That one went for weeks and involved all the intelligence agencies. No demonstrative proof was presented, or none that we little people could see. Obama neglected to say that he knew about Russia’s cyber actions fifteen months beforehand and decided not to do anything about it. That’s when he believed Hillary was a shoo-in and he didn’t want to upset that apple cart. He feigned dismay at tampering with an election, yet he did the same with Netanyahu’s re-election, attempting to cause Netanyahu to lose. This ploy continued with much fanfare, but when all involved admitted that no ballot boxes were tampered with or affected and that no votes were changed, it pretty much fizzled out too. We were left with cyber attacks, which is a real issue.
Between the above and the Dems next big Obama-heralded step was the fake news story attempting to slander Donald Trump and a major cable station carrying the story. This was an intelligence-leaked story, showing the true politicization of our intelligence agencies. Russia should learn from this that apparently they can be bought.
Next, Obama pressed further since his original step didn’t do what he had hoped. Highly pushed for by the Clinton people, Obama brought an investigation against Jim Comey. Oh, not just him (wink, wink), but his in-the-bag lack-of-justice department led by the totally dishonorable Loretta Lynch who, oh my God! is not subject to the IG investigation. Surprise! Surprise!
Concurrently, two Congressmen set precedents. Corey Booker, himself scandal-ridden, testified against Jeff Sessions (on racial issues), the first senator to ever testify against a cabinet appointee at their confirmation hearing. Then John Lewis stated that he does not consider the President-Elect a legitimate president, that he was elected by a conspiracy with the Russians. You go boy!
The Despicable Dems Losing Playbook: emotional attacks and scare tactics, arbitrary recounts, assertions of Russian interference (though no actual effect on the election results is found), intelligence leaks and investigations and finally the declaration of the illegitimacy of the election by a Congressman.
This was unprecedented. Hillary herself said that not accepting the election results was Anti-American. Of course she said this while her paid operatives were directing and participating in the non-acceptance tactics. It reflects a Democrat breakdown, insane election-loss denial, and a thorough misunderstanding by the Democrats of the true pulse of America and what Americans want and perhaps need. God help us all for what they are doing to our Democratic system.
Coming Soon:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
And the truth is… There is no truth left in America. If we are still the greatest country ever, it’s only by the grace of God. Oh! I forgot. I’m not supposed to bring up God. That’s not politically correct.
Actually, truth left us a long time ago. In the electronic era, however, we just see the lies more. Maybe they are more blatant now because our leaders take us for stupids. Worse, according to Hillary we are deplorables who are irredeemable. Very nice the way she thinks of us little people.
Bill Clinton was a great liar. If you remember the Monica Lewinsky thing, you know this. He shouldn’t have been impeached for that, but all the other liars in Congress had to make a show of him so we’d think they were actually doing something. That was one of their lies, that they’re doing something for us. None of them can be trusted to do anything for us. Another of the lies was their holier-than-thou pretense that they weren’t cheating on their spouses. They should have all been put under oath and asked the same questions as Clinton. Statistically, almost seven in ten are or were cheating. Let’s give them the benefit of the doubt. Let’s say fifty percent, or forty percent. Then they all should have been impeached too.
One of the biggest reasons the truth is gone is that the media is no longer honest itself. Look at who owns a lot of it and you’ll see why. Remember when GE owned NBC and the CEO of GE was in the White House on Obama’s energy committee? So you think NBC and all its cable stations are unbiased? They had skin in Obama’s energy game, and a game it was because they were gaming us and lying about its effectiveness. Truth? A senator in a movie playing on cable now says “Truth is what I say it is boy.”
Just as an aside, when the judge asked me if I had anything to say at my trial and I started to tell the truth, he banged down his gavel to stop me and sent me off to jail.
The NY Slimes and Washington Compost–one more time, check out their owners and you’ll see they have no interest in the truth since mostly it goes against their personal interests. And on and on.
The climate change truth? Why would the Attorney General, fine piece of work she is meeting with Billy boy Clinton on the tarmac, prosecute scientists who contradict what the government wants to hear about it? Why are almost all the studies done by scientists getting federal grants? Yes, when you pay for it, you can have the answer you want, whether it’s right or wrong. The game is fixed and they are lying to us. Why? Federal power grab.
Obamacare? Lie after lie after lie. From keeping your doctor to it will cost less…BS, BS, BS. Why Obamacare? Federal power grab. They could at least be honest about it.
We are stupids. If we believe any of them, we are dumber than dumb.
Ironically though, Mr. outrageous himself, Donald Trump, has hit upon some truths that should scare all of us. The system is rigged. That’s why a lot of the Republicans won’t support him. They want the status quo since changing it would cost them and their cronies fortunes and they’d lose their power. The media is in the tank for the Democrats. They’ve even admitted it. Our elections are as crooked as those we used to laugh at in what we used to call the banana republics.
Truth? There is no more truth. Justice? Yeah. Look at the lack-of-justice department and the FBI and how they colluded on the Clinton email case. The American way? Not anymore. They are marching us into socialism knowing full well it doesn’t work anywhere in the world.
They went straight through. It began slightly after opening. Tommy set himself up to call the orders and the orders came in rapid fire. Bill ran a full broiler almost the whole day. Henry Lee came up twice so Bill could go to the bathroom. Lillian came in two hours early and she relieved Tommy so he could take care of the front of the house.
At the busiest point Bill ran a full broiler, a full charcoal grill and a semi-full second broiler. Mr. Jim sliced the prime rib to order and put the sides and garnishes on all the plates. No matter how busy they were, Mr. Jim worked one speed, steady, and his steady speed matched the rate of the orders going out. He was never nonplussed, never raised his voice and never discourteous. He referred to Lillian as “love” or “darling” or just by her name. Tommy he would talk to, guide so to speak, telling him what Bill needed sometimes even before Bill himself knew. Lillian he would gently coax. “Need to go with some steaks, Darling,” he would say, or “Pick up what you can from the boy, Love. Gotta go.”
Lillian liked Mr. Jim. He calmed her. Her greatest fear was not getting all her orders on the grill and running so far behind they could never catch up. She didn’t care so much that they ran behind, but she was damned if running behind was gonna be her fault. Mr. Jim’s sweet-talk voice, smooth and beguiling, wheedled her into complying with the real needs from the other side of the counter. Every time she adhered to what Mr. Jim had cunningly demanded of her, Mr. Jim praised her and reminded her that due to her expertise, they were keeping on course.
To Bill, quietly, he spoke in confidence. “What’s the point in yelling or arguing? Lillian’s gonna do it as she does it, and you already know how she does it. Find a work around.” Even with a full grill, sometimes Bill stopped to look at Mr. Jim. “What’s your longest cooking steak?” Mr. Jim asked Bill. “Put one or two of those up front, getting ready to get ready. You know how to rotate everything. Think ahead. The busier you get, the more you got to think ahead.” Mr. Jim would laugh sometimes. “When it gets really crazy,” he said, “the sane head always wins out.”
Tommy came in mid-evening to relieve Lillian so she could go to the bathroom and catch a smoke. When he came in, Bill stepped off the line and lit a cigarette. Tommy had Norma, who was a runner this evening, take drink orders from the kitchen. Bill made sure the dishwashers were included in the order, and as he always did when they were so swamped the dishwashers were working non-stop, he sent over steaks for each of them. Drenovis called the dishwasher operation the asshole of the industry. Mr. Jim had taught Bill that life was miserable when your asshole wasn’t working right and reminded Bill that they were hardworking people and deserved to be treated as such.
Bea worked with Marie side by side for awhile so Marie could get up to speed. Marie completely replenished everything on the pantry station while Bea put out the orders. Seemed to Bea now that her and Bill this morning was so long ago, like in a whole other time and space. Mary was cooking fresh pots of vegetables and baking potatoes endlessly. She even set and started a second large pan of yellow rice. Yellow rice—they called it saffron but it wasn’t really—was one of the regular side choices. She and Bea were working overtime and wouldn’t go home until nine. Mr. Jim was working late too, not on any schedule. He had agreed to stick around until the orders started tapering off.
Coming at the end of May 2017:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
Apocalypse!
The scene opens to the wasteland which is the aftermath of the devastation. Only a few people have survived, but all the Hollywood elite, the politicians, the exceptionally rich and the cartel drug lords, who are part of the very rich, are thriving in their bubble-cities. The bubble-cities are scattered. California hosts the Hollywood elites. DC hosts the politicians. Mexico hosts the drug lords. You get the picture. It’s Mad Max, Book of Eli time.
The regular regulars are the walking dead. Mutated into zombies by the sinister corporation that was secretly testing chemical and biological weapons, they roam the rubble searching for victims to cannibalize. No one from the gated cities ventures outside. Everyone inside is glad they stockpiled wealth. They always knew being among the rich rich was the only game in town. They always knew those socialist ideological words they spewed were meant for the suckers.
There’s Whoopi. She was gonna leave, as were some fat-cat Hollywood would-be idealists with big mouths and no real beliefs except me, me me. She’s really glad she was all talk and no action. She knew she was full of crap, but the words sounded good at the time. Such words got her show ratings. Ratings got her better contracts. Better contracts made her wealthy enough to be in the gated bubble-city safety zone.
Suddenly things are different. The politicians are worried. Their intelligence community has gotten wind of the fact that the cartel lords are plotting overthrows of the weaker bubble-cities. The zombies don’t use drugs, don’t need them. The drug czars realize that depleting savings is no fun, and with no income they have no other option than to do what they know best–destroy the others and take their wealth. In Darwinian terms, the drug czars are the fittest for survival.
The politicians, miraculously, have all banded together. No more lefties and righties. No more in-fighting or filibusters. They are a bit sorry they didn’t realize sooner that all that talk about global warming and protecting the rarest form of frogs as being the greatest threat to humankind (which was great for rallying their constituents and hoodwinking the populace) was pure idiocy. It kept them from taking care of the real business of protecting the American people. No illegal aliens are getting into their city. They aren’t spending their own money to take care of people who broke the law, who don’t belong there in the first place. Those people have no right to occupy their space. Neither do the poor or the elderly or the infirm. Taking care of them is a real burden when they have to use their own resources. So, the hell with them.
Zombies will soon be banging on the gates of the secure, gated bubble-cities. The drug czars are looking for ways to infiltrate the other bubble-cities and use their inhabitants to appease the zombies until they can obliterate them. Those diabolical mad scientists will be necessary. The drug czars, now all working together, plan to pay them with the the Hollywood and politician wealth. Then they will repopulate and rebuild.
Understanding they are doomed, the wholly unprepared Hollywood elite and mostly unprepared politicians see that the crap they’ve been pushing on the people is just that, crap. Even their outrageous wealth won’t protect them against the very prepared drug czars. In the end, smart money would bet on the evil and ruthless to defeat the silly pseudo-idealists who have no clue.
Up in space, the super, uber-rich like George Soros are laughing. At least for now they are safe. But the drug czars have not forgotten about them. As much as the drug czars are already plotting eliminating each other, they are plotting eliminating the super-uber and taking the pot of gold.
********************************************************************************
Coming at the end of May 2017:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
Saturday was beyond gangbusters. It was positively wild.
Mary had words for both Bill and Bea when they came upstairs.
“Keep it in your damn pants,” she told Bill. “And you,” she said to Bea. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“The boy’s young,” Bea said. “He be ready for you in twenty minutes.”
“Lord have mercy,” Mary said. But she was thinking about it.
Bill drank another cup of coffee and hid himself in the meat room. Henry Lee put him to cutting Bostons, Supers and Tops and told him Alfreda would be by about noon for the meat pickup. Suburban West had depleted most of its inventory, so they were cutting some thirteen or fourteen hundred steaks for both stores. After the west took its meat, Henry Lee would make sure the East’s supply was plentiful, and then start into the Sunday supply so there wouldn’t be that much work to do. He was already planning to party with Marie and get himself totally drunk.
Saturdays and Sundays were easier in the sense that they had no lunch meal. This meant that Mary could concentrate solely on the dinner. She also had more time to prepare since they opened for business later in the day, at one PM. She had no lunch specials, no steamship round to cook. Bill had brought up two prime ribs. They were in one pan in one oven, the oven marked with a dishtowel tied around its handle.
Bea, sated now, went about her work. She washed two cases of lettuce instead of one and while the lettuce sat in cold water in the sink on her station, she replenished all the salad dressings. She left an extra bain marie filled with each dressing, and she helped Mary by cooking off her own shrimp for the shrimp cocktails. Mary threw her evil eyes each time she walked over to check the shrimp, but Bea assured her it was just…physical…and there was still plenty of the young white boy for her.
At noon, Alfreda arrived with the van. By this time, all the waitresses had been working a full hour. The dishwashers were cleaning up the all the dishes and condiment dishes that hadn’t been finished the night before, so the exhaust fans over the stoves droned mercilessly, the dish machine hummed its annoying, splashing hum and things throughout the kitchen and dining rooms were bustling.
Bill started carrying up the meat shortly after Alfreda popped her head into the meat room. She had stopped upstairs to say hello to Bea and Mary, had drawn herself a coffee and gone downstairs. She kissed her husband hello then sat herself on the stainless steel counter and watched them cutting meat until Bill finished the top sirloin butt he was working on.
She followed Bill up when he climbed the stairs with two meat trays on his shoulder. He pushed through the screen door, her right behind him, and she opened the van cargo doors for him. For each tray he brought up, he took several empty, clean trays from the van.
Alfreda watched. At one point, she climbed up into the van and stood in Bill’s way so he had to get past her to get back out. She reminded him that she had a plan but that he wouldn’t be privy to it until she was ready to implement it. She told him Bea had already told her about their morning quickie and that she was jealous, but not that jealous, just kind of envious. She asked if he liked black girls. Bill asked if she liked white boys. She kissed him once and got away with it because his hands were full. She goosed him every chance she could get, when he was stepping up into the van and when he was loading full trays onto the van’s racks.
“He ain’t getting away with it,” Alfreda said.
“I don’t know nothing,” Bill said. “And I don’t want to know nothing. My name is Been It and I ain’t in it.”
“Oh, you in it all right,” Alfreda said.
Then the van was loaded and she was gone and Bill, Henry Lee, Mary, Bea, Mr. Jim and Jimmy prepared themselves for the gang-buster night.
********************************************************************************
Coming at the end of May 2017:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
Alfreda did have a plan, and Bill would learn it, but not for awhile. Meanwhile, Evelyn was waiting in her car when Bill came out the back door of the restaurant. Tommy was behind Bill as he left, like always. He closed and bolted the heavy, steel door.
Evelyn honked. Bill saw her pull up next to his car. His ass was dragging and he smelled like funk; all he wanted to do was go home.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said when Bill got into her car on the passenger side. She leaned over and kissed Bill. “You did great tonight,” she said. “We all made a small fortune.”
“We worked our butts off in the kitchen. I’d like to smack Lillian upside her head. All she wants to do is order. And we didn’t make but our meager pay.”
“Yeah, I know. But I got something for you if you want it.”
“I’ll bet you do. I’m real tired though.”
“Tomorrow is my last night.”
“I know.”
“Gonna miss you.”
“Me too.”
“Thanks for talking to Robert. I’m going to the place that gives Suburban its biggest competition.”
“Don’t mess with the cooks.”
Evelyn smiled. “I didn’t mess with you,” she said. “If you remember, you defended me and you were so naïve and sweet—you weren’t like anyone I’d ever met in any restaurant.”
“This wasn’t where I thought I’d end up. I thought I’d be a teacher, or a social worker or a probation officer. I never dreamed I’d be on probation and have a criminal record.”
“Life takes us where it takes us,” Evelyn said. “Anyway, in case there’s no time tomorrow, here’s my number and my address and my best friend’s number so you can call her and don’t have to worry about my boyfriend picking up. I hope we can still meet.”
“Me too.”
“Come on and follow me. We can have one last…”
“I smell like sour steak grease.”
“And…”
The total was over six hundred covers that they did. He found this out when he limped his tired self into Suburban East the next morning. That was more than two full turns for each dining room. Tommy was elated. Drenovis, who had come over to take the deposit and make sure they were set for the day, was smiling. He said something nasty to Bill, but it was in front of Henry Lee. Henry Lee told him to f–k himself and told Bill not pay the shithead any mind.
Mary was dragging her butt too, and Bea was sitting on her stool when Bill went over to get his third coffee.
“Come here,” Bea said.
Bill walked over to where she sat. “What’s up?”
“Scratch my back.” She unbuttoned two top buttons of her dress so Bill could reach inside.
Bill put his coffee down, reached in and started scratching.
“You’re getting another raise, you know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Robert told me.”
“Good.”
Bea moved so Bill would get where she was itchy. “There, there,” she said. Then, “I need you to help me carry up some stuff.”
“Let’s do it now so I go help Henry Lee.”
Bea got up from her stool and buttoned up. Bill followed her down to the store room. Immediately they started gathering cans to go upstairs. When they had everything, Bea pulled Bill toward her. “I like it best in the morning,” she said. She reached down to touch him.
“We got a lot of work,” Bill said.
“We got a few minutes,” Bea said. “Scratch my other itch.”
********************************************************************************
Coming at the end of May 2017:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
Friday night came near to a Friday night record. The first orders started trickling in a little before five. Bill hadn’t even finished setting up the line yet and he found himself cooking steaks and frying pickerel. He made the final trips downstairs for the last of the meat trays between orders.
Alfreda had driven over to pick up the meats for the west side, and at one point Bill had found himself alone with her in the van.
“Bea told me about you.”
“Well she got a big mouth.”
“When I get my turn?”
“When hell freezes over or you get divorced.”
“Don’t let him stand in the way. He’s hitting anything that moves.”
“Me no see, me no tell,” Bill said.
“I’m getting mine,” Alfreda said.
“Yeah, okay,” Bill said.
She winked at Bill. “I got a plan. You’ll see.”
“All right,” Bill said.
By six, when Jimmy came in, Bill was running a board full of orders. Mary had considered sliding in to help him, but she watched him work, waiting to see how he handled what he had.
In fact, she decided, he handled it well. He put out what was ready when it was ready and brought up each order all together so nothing had to wait under the warmer lights. He hit the bell for each order and worked on.
Both Norma and Evelyn were working. Almost everyone was working, and on nights like these two waitresses served as runners. This meant that for the night all tips would be pooled and split evenly.
Norma and Evelyn did not have bad blood between them. Evelyn was keen on Bill, but like Bill she had a live-in. She wasn’t jealous, only pissed at Drenovis for messing her up. Norma wasn’t getting great shifts either even though Drenovis had hired four new girls already, three of whom he’d bedded.
Norma had no feelings for Bill. She’d accommodated Drenovis which had led to fooling around with Bill. For her, it was just fun. After the initial time, she and Bill had several little downstairs trysts–good fun for both of them, but nothing more. Bill made sure not to mess around with her when Evelyn was working.
Alvin came over from the west side around seven. Bea and Mary were gone. Grandma was in back, baking more potatoes, making sure they had enough vegetables and gravy and au jus. When Grandma got an order for fried chicken, Alvin asked her to fry him an order too. He stood on the line eating that chicken while he worked the orders they had.
Tommy called orders until Lillian came in. Lillian was like the little old lady from Pasadena. She had a deep, gravelly voice, only stood about five feet tall. Her hair was completely white and she wore big-rimmed glasses.
Bill already had nightmares about Lillian. In the recurring dream that would last many years post Lillian, Bill was drowning in steaks that had to be picked up but all Lillian would do is order. Ordering, ordering, ordering, ordering–those were the words Bill heard over and over in the dream. Ordering, ordering, ordering, ordering.
Bill didn’t leave the line until after eleven. Henry Lee came up twice to replenish the meat supply. Grandma worked late. Marie found herself having to wash more lettuce. Bill smoked while he worked, careful not to get ashes on anything. He had Lillian have a continual supply of coffee and diet coke brought in for him. Alvin drank beer. Jimmy drank water.
Overall, they performed well. Bill was sweat-soaked and his apron brown from meat grease where he wiped his hands. Also, his shirt was soaked with meat grease under the right armpit where he held the tongs so he could use both hands.
“Goddamn,” Alvin said when they had emptied the board. “That second dining room’s a bitch.”
Generally the west side store beat the east in volume. Not this night. Not this weekend. This weekend the east earned its keep and then some.
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Coming at the end of May 2017:
The Ghost Writer, Rose’s Story: A Look At The Worlds We Hide
