Home > Cuisine by Brian Schropp > Run To The Hills- My Adventures In The Hill Country Of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville PART ONE

Run To The Hills- My Adventures In The Hill Country Of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville PART ONE

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

Brian Schropp on Cuisine

I was up to my elbows in dishwater all the time now. Business had picked up at the “Pizza-A-Round” and my “cleaning team” was struggling to keep up. The added pressure of trying to answer the phones since Martha was now gone (please see my thrilling “To Catch A Thief” articles) didn’t help.

“BRIAN!!” Scott screamed from the prep line, hands deep in the dough of a “meat buster” calzone during a mid-afternoon rush. “These containers are filthy!!”

I looked over to my crew, Oscar and Omar. “Clean-clean!!” I yelled at them holding up a plastic container lid I was soaking in my “manager sink”. The scowls and curses (I think they were cursing I am not fluent in Soutwestern Lankvillian) I received back told me they understood.

​Oscar and Omar- my "cleaning team"

​Oscar and Omar- my “cleaning team”

A little while later Scott came storming back waving an earlier phone order in my face. “All these orders you took are messed up, either the damn address was not correct or you goofed up the order!! Do you know how much money this cost me?!! The laundry bill for the drivers to have their outfits cleaned from the angry customers who threw the food back at them in disgust will be in the hundreds alone!” He paused to calm down but couldn’t catch his breath when he saw the dishes. “Are you clowns even using hot water?! How many freakin’ times do we need to go over this?!!”

I lifted the plastic lid I was still scrubbing away at to the boys. “Hot water-hot water! Clean-clean!!” Then I banged the lid twice on the rim of my “manager sink” to drive home the point. I hoped using some of my “managerial muscle” would calm my boss down and get him off my back. Unfortunately he looked over by the emergency door.

His “Scott look” went into full overdrive. “WHAT THE HELL—-WHY HASN’T THE TRASH BEEN TAKEN OUT?!!!!”

The firing of another employee– Danny “Elf Boy” Finlay (again folks see my last two exciting articles) left the slot of trash duties open. With no one picking up the slack a week’s worth of trash collected into a disgusting mess. Well “the shit hit the pizza fan” so to speak (please pardon the obscenity, Mom) and my team was put in charge of trash detail. I tried my best in simple English and broken Southwestern Lankvillian to instruct Oscar and Omar to help me. They either didn’t seem to understand or want to help. So my next few hours were spent pulling apart sticky trash bags and taking the stinky, pungent bags to the dumpster.

Our dumpsters are located behind the strip mall we are in with a wooded area behind that. Yes it was a big task but I soon got into the “Bri Zone” in which I tune out the world and get lost in my thoughts. A few times I thought I heard some rustling in the woods but I put it out of my mind. At worst it was probably just some super squirrels and if they became a problem I would just go back inside and get one of Scott’s many handguns.

​The man by the dumpsters

​The man by the dumpsters

It wasn’t until I was nearing the end of my trash run that the source of the rustling noise became clear. When I was coming back with the final two bags there was a guy in front of them wearing a caveman like outfit and holding a spear. I was closer to him than our emergency door so I stood still– afraid that any movement might set him off. After a few moments I decided to break the ice.

“Are you here to pick up a order? You will need to go around front.”

He took a moment and then pointed his spear at me. “You-Great Bumpkin–you-come with me.”

“Wait a sec, are you homeless? If so, you better scram before Scott finds you out here.” Then it clicked. “You’re a hill person!! I can’t believe I’m seeing one in the flesh.” How could this be? I have never heard of any hill people willingly coming into the modern Deep Northern Suburban area. Was he lost? Like some sort of rabid racoon wandering far from home? Before I could inquire further I noticed another one dressed in the same cave rags out of the corner of my eye. This one was very quick and before I had time to even react I was knocked out by his spear.

As in typical form when I am knocked out (which seems to happen a great deal to me) I heard the sweet choruses of bumpkins and I fell into a blinding white light–

When I awoke I was far inside the Hill Country of Deep Northern Suburban Lankville. I recognized the area instantly from the text books of my high school days and travel brochures I saw as a kid (there used to be travel tours of this area which stopped a number of years ago when too many tourists were being attacked.) My arms and legs were tied to a giant stick that was being carried by the two who knocked me out. I hung upside down like a hog going to the “Lankville Pork Fest” for slaughter. I was also gagged and they wouldn’t respond to my muffled request for some water or some type of light snack (I was getting hungry because I had missed lunch break). They carried my mass up a steep hillside and to a clearing where a group of other hill people were waiting. Not one looked too pleasant.

​A picture of some of the beautiful yet deadly Hillside Country

​A picture of some of the beautiful yet deadly Hillside Country

I was dropped rather roughly in front of this group. The one who was clearly the leader of the tribe came forward and cut the bonds off my arms and legs and then took the gag out of my mouth. This man vaguely reminded me of someone but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. He stood me up and took a good look at me. He nodded to the two who had brought me. “Yes this is him. You have done well, the Great Addanc will be pleased.” Two others from the group snatched an arm and started to drag me off. The leader walked beside us.

“Don’t worry chubby one this will be over for you soon. Your powers of wielding mighty breakfast sandwiches can not hurt us because the Great Addanc protects our tribe. Once we give you to him he will give us great powers and make us strong!! Then we, Tribe Cameron will rule the Hill Country!!”

I realized to my horror who this tribe leader reminded me of– Hank Cameron, my mortal enemy and manager of Foodville. These were his distant hillside cousins and they were taking me to some sort of danger I knew nothing about!!

Please keep an eye out for Pt.2 where things even take a stranger turn!! Until then please keep your mind and mouth open to new ideas!!

BRI

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