(Use alliteration with keywords: macaroni, spaghetti, salmon, plate, hunger)
Darlene dove from the dark alley into the dingy kitchen, dismissing the chef on shift. She donned her apron and heated huge pans filled with water on the fire. Telling the amiable kitchen aid Tony what to do, she set out to fabricate her delectable dishes for the restless people in the restaurant. Every night, they gathered from near and far to taste the tantalising dishes Darlene created. Tonight was no different.
Wendy, the waitress, waltzed through the swinging door into the kitchen, empty plates precariously balanced on her petite palms.
“The place is packed with pigs,” she said to no person in particular.
“What are you whining about?” Tony asked.
“Shut up,” she said. “I’m just joking. But I tell you, they look hoggishly hungry, just like you do when your eyes fall upon this feast.” She had put the plates in the dishwasher and indicated her body as she winked wickedly at Tony.
Tony blushed bashfully and averted his eyes.
“Well, don’t stand there wiling precious time away. Put the pasta into the water,” Darlene said to Tony as she fried some fritters.
Tony tried to please Darlene as he knew his position was under review. Rarely had his boss requested any aid to stay longer than he had and tonight his job was on the brink. It was hard to please the kitchen princess, but he knew he could be the permanent pasta chef for her busy place. Tony’s knowledge of pasta was pronounced, his macaroni tasted marvellous and his spaghetti was spectacular. Besides, he was in good books with the wonderful Wendy, whose bust had busied him in his daring dreams, and he so wished he could stay.
“We have on order a sizzling salmon plate, an alluring linguini, and a pepper pasta pot.” Wendy stuck the notes on the busy board and picked up the plates for the next customers.
Tony’s eyes drifted down to Wendy’s wiggling derriere. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to be able to grab a hold of that girl’s butt, but, unfortunately, he was uncomely and shy and had never been able to utter a single syllable to express his emotions. Their communication had been purely professional. He had, however, a haunch that his intentions were not entirely going unnoticed.
They got busy baking and the orders kept coming. Wendy walked to and fro, from customer to kitchen and back again. Tony twirled pizzas and Darlene did her thing. It was a perfectly orchestrated orchestra.
“Hallelujah, heaven help us,” Wendy said as she swivelled through the door again.
“Why? What’s up?” Darlene dared to ask.
“It’s the terrifying taster, he’s in our restaurant. He’s here to write a review.”
Wendy’s words sent shivers down Darlene’s spine. This was the moment she had been waiting for, for days and decades slaving over a hot stove. This was the moment she had wanted to arrive; when the terrifying taster would write a review about her, whether her dishes truly tasted delectable or not. She froze on the spot, fearing for her future that was now in his hands.
Seeing his boss seize up, Tony tried to soothe her, contriving complements to boost her confidence.
“He’s just another gastronomic guest. Don’t think too much about it,” he said. “Your dishes are daring, different from other people’s pastas. Everybody knows how engaging your culinary creations are. Just jolly along and fabricate him a delicious dish as if he was your lover.” Tony lavished the compliments on her like peppers on his pizzas. “Serve him the sizzling salmon, with the mild mozzarella, the oceanic-tinted orzo, and the savoury champignons. He’ll have no choice but to lick the plate and write a lavishly pleasing report.”
Darlene’s head bobbed up and down while Tony talked. His words sank in and she knew she had to act. Accepting that it was now or never, she set to serve the most marvellous dish she had ever created. She seared the salmon, selected the spices, and precariously positioned the salmon, the pasta, and the various vegetables on the plate. The dish truly was a sight for a sore eye, Tony said when she was done.
Wendy took the plate through. Darlene and Tony took a peek in turn through the porthole glass of the swivelling door. They both fought to see the facial expression of the taster after Wendy had returned. As the taster took a bite of the dish, the corners of his mouth curled upward. Darlene sighed a heavy sigh of relief. She had finally achieved what she had aimed for all her life.
When the night was over and the dishes done, the three of them sat at the kitchen table, eating some leftover dishes. They were all in a very amiable mood and the wine tasted mellow.
“Tony,” Darlene spoke, “I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without your precious help. I’d like to hire you permanently.”
Both Tony and Wendy smiled silly smiles and the three of them toasted another glass of glorious wine after which Darlene called it a night.
“Why don’t you and I leave together tonight?” Wendy said as she nuzzled Tony’s nose.
Tony ditched the dish he was holding and with frolicking fingers finally grabbed Wendy’s wiggling butt.
Copyrighted (c) by Jacky Dahlhaus