Latest posts by scotchnaut (see all)
It’s gets so busy at the soup kitchen in December. As the weather turns the traffic increases, so they tell me. I’ve been kicking myself for quite some time now. Why the hell have I never thought of this until now? Volunteering here was one hell of an idea. There’s a shit-ton of ‘talent’ here that no one gives any thought to. Perfect.
I do have to say that I much prefer ladling/spooning out the various fares on offer rather than wiping tables. The smell that comes off these guys when you’re bussing makes my eyes water sometimes. That’s why I prefer to dole out the mystery casserole from behind the steam tables. I get a little bit of grumbling about portion sizes here and there but lately the men and women have been well-behaved. It can’t be the season, can it?
The one fella that does give me a hard time on the regular is Gus, the dishwasher. Any time I ask him to hurry on the dishes or cutlery (this place, like most others, runs on a paper-thin budget so there’s not enough plates and forks to go ’round) he let’s loose a string of expletives. I’m not afraid of most people given my favourite ‘hobby’ but the deep scar that runs from his left eye down to the cleft of his chin speaks volumes.
It was a Sunday and I’d shooed the last of the homeless out of the place. By this time the woman-Marie-that ran the program trusted me to lock up and had given me the keys to the place. Gus was scrubbing away and the dishwater whirred and whooshed its way through the rinse and wash cycles. I grabbed a meat tenderizer and felt the heft of it my hand. The filet knife had just been sharpened earlier today. I walked up behind old Gus and let him have it on the back of his head. He slumped forward over washbasin like a rag doll and the knife went through his Adam’s Apple like butter. The blood gushed into the sink as I propped his body up as long as I could.
It still took quite a bit of time to mop up everything but all in all, I thought it was some of my best work. His body fit nicely into the plastic-lined trunk of my SUV. A short trip to the parkway and then home to celebrate. Happy Holidays, indeed.
It’s so hard to measure the toughness of any San Diego squad given their postseason failures so I’m thinking that if they can take this one on the road on the east coast then the team might be onto something.
Give me what you got.