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February 25, 2015 Leave a comment Go to comments
By Suzy Sweetly-Services

By Suzy Sweetly-Services

I can keep a real clean kitchen. I can soak the tables in sudsy liquids whenever I want; I can make them sparkle pristinely. I can mop up throw up like nobody’s business. I’m a professional and everybody knows it. But with great power comes great hostility because not everyone can shine like me. They’re out to get me, see. Every obstacle that They throw at me can be easily dodged. I’m the best.

The mayonnaise that almost killed Suzy.

The mayonnaise that almost killed Suzy.

I saw a few of Them snickering around the condiments and speciality oils, right next to the napkin dispenser. I didn’t really make anything of it yet as I had an important meeting to attend about how to properly dress a coffee cup, (with a Java Jacket, of course!). A loud groan was then heard in echoing crescendos, carrying off into the hallway. I looked to my left, I looked to my right, I looked forward, and then for good measure, I looked up and down, and then finally I looked behind me and saw the remnants of a successful crime spree. The metal homes for our beloved condiments had been broken into! The poor handles that pump the stuff onto customer’s hamburgers were pushed aside in haste, sitting in their own thick juices. Plastic sporks were everywhere and bits of iceberg lettuce clung for dear life on the adjacent counter. Napkins, although apparently under-utilized, had somehow made their own mess, crumpled up in piles in the corner. This had been a robbery – what had they stolen?! – my time. I swallowed my pride because you don’t get to be this fantastic without some hardships. I put on my powder-free gloves and got to work.

As I struggled with the mayonnaise, I had one thought: This is how I’ll die… Covered in a gelatinous mountain moulage of vinegar and raw egg – I would sink into its depths, without leaving so much as an eyelash or fingernail behind. I would disintegrate into the rotten core of the drainage system in the back where my dishwashing comrades will swear in agony: “Damn it, I should’ve joined the Army!” Yes, you can only be on call for so many crime scenes before it really gets to you, makes you feel a hysterical kind of funny. I could see an end in sight and I almost welcomed it; imagining customers stabbing me with sporks until ketchup exploded outward from my insides, I was ready and willing. I was saved from this sad display of weakness however, but I’ve gotta tell you later because my break’s up.

Ketchup and kisses,


  1. February 26, 2015 at 7:42 pm

    Reblogged this on SARAH SAMWAYS and commented:
    Poor Suzy!

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