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The kitchen staff cowered outside the door, not wanting to stray too far from their posts but too scared to actually venture back into the kitchen.

From the other side of the door, they could hear a horrendous cacophony of crashing, smashing, and crockery breaking.

“Get out! Out, out OUT! Get out of my kitchen!”

They jumped back from the door as it was flung open, and a battered and bleeding young commis stumbled out, his hands held protectively over his head.

“You are fired! Fired! Do not come back! I wish to never see your dirty little face again!”

“Y-yes chef,” the commis answered through force of habit before running away as fast as possible.

“And the rest of you!”

The kitchen staff snapped to attention as the chef fixed each of them in turn with an evil glare.

“Yes, Chef,” they responded in almost perfect unison.

“Get back to work. And remember, nobody touches my knives!”

“Yes, Chef!”

© Kari Fay

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