CH4: Out of the Frying Pan... (Sean + Gabe)
Jul 6, 2018 11:10:02 GMT -6
Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jul 6, 2018 11:10:02 GMT -6
The smell of pan-fried noodles permeated every corner of the cafeteria. Despite the fact that it was relatively empty, a couple crewmembers were kept around to man the kitchen and prepare for the dinner rush. The mid-afternoon shift was brief, a small relief in what had been a very, very tiring week. Sean was reminded of his part-time job back in high school, where late nights flipping burgers preceded early mornings learning mathematics.
And just like back then, he would spend as much of his time at work goofing around as possible. Sean tossed around the hefty steel wok to coat the noodles in brownish sauce while his injured arm carefully tossed in the other ingredients with a tong. Doctor’s orders, he claimed.
“Unbelievable how many noodles these people can scarf down,” Sean lamented. “Ye almost done cutting up those cabbages?”
In many regards, Gabe had been spoiled rotten in his shielding from the working world. Chief among them was never having to work any kind of fast food or kitchen work beyond some home-cooked meals for when his parents were out. But much like any job he got assigned with Sean, it was hard to stay too grumpy despite everything conspiring against his mood.
“I’m workin’ on it, dammit.” He shot back, sliding some hastily-chopped cabbage in Sean’s direction. While “chopped” might have been a good descriptor, “even” was absolutely not one that could be used, even charitably. But it was done, more or less. “Can’t say I blame ‘em, though. We had some Chinese-style places back home, but it ain’t the same as the real thing. Or realer, maybe. Still us makin’ it now.”
Dumping the first batch of chow mein into a tall metal hotel pan, Sean let the scent waft into the air. Satisfied, he placed the first batch into the soup well and wrote down the expiry on its lid with a white marker. The dirty wok was tossed straight into the sink, rattling with a heavy ‘CLANG' as it fell inside. He picked up another wok from the dishwasher and shook it out to dry. The few beads of water left inside crackled as he placed the pan onto the stove and poured in sesame oil. The moment the oil became wavy, Sean dumped in the carrots, onions, and freshly-cut cabbage. Juices sizzled as they met the wok’s heat. He glanced over towards the recipe taped to the back wall, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Sure as hell isn’t real if ye make it like this. Come on, they don’t even want ye to mix in oyster sauce? There’s plenty in the cupboards and it isn’t being used in anything else. It’s a damn good thing Chef Roland is in the kitchen,” he boasted. “Have ye had the chance to marinate the firecracker chicken? Needs to go in the fridge by three.”
It was a damn good thing “Chef Roland” was in charge of things. He made it look easy throwing things around with one good arm, with Gabe struggling to keep his various duties going at once. With a curse, he stumbled past Sean to where he’d left the chicken, giving them a few pokes with a pair of tongs. He’d left them to marinate as instructed, but mostly that just meant “cover the shit out of them and leave them alone” to him.
“More or less. I’ll toss ‘em in and grab that oyster sauce.” He said, already hauling the tray full of chicken. “Need anything else while I’m over there?”
“Would ye mind hauling a box of egg rolls from the freezer? They should be just off to the left and–”
Sean paused mid-sentence as his friend passed behind him. He mumbled a confused ‘what the…’ under his breath, grabbing Gabe by the shoulder and forcing him to a stop. Before he could protest, Sean tore off a small paper bag that had been taped onto his back. “How long has this been here? Says it’s addressed to me… someone using ye as a carrier pigeon?”
“Yeah, I got-” Gabe stopped talking when he suddenly felt Sean’s hand on his shoulder, trying to look over his shoulder at his back. “Huh? What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout? Lemme see.”
He hastily shoved the chicken into place in the fridge and grabbed the egg rolls, dropping them onto a free space on the counter and peering around Sean’s side at the mystery package. “It’s my baby, I got just as much a right to see what someone slapped onto my back as ya do. Even if it’s addressed to ya.”
His back...He narrowed his eyes as he recalled the events of earlier today. Lin had been a bit jumpy after she’d run into him, but he thought that was just Lin being Lin. The girl was sneakier than he thought, evidently.
“It doesn’t work like that and ye know it. Package is addressed to one ‘Sean Roland’, and last I checked yer name was still Givemeapieceofthat Crubblegum.”
He stuffed the paper bag into a space in his black non-slip shoes, then cracked open the cardboard box of egg rolls on the counter before laying them in rows of three on a baking sheet. “What if it’s a love letter from a secret admirer? No way I’d have ye lording that one over me for the rest of my days.”
And just like back then, he would spend as much of his time at work goofing around as possible. Sean tossed around the hefty steel wok to coat the noodles in brownish sauce while his injured arm carefully tossed in the other ingredients with a tong. Doctor’s orders, he claimed.
“Unbelievable how many noodles these people can scarf down,” Sean lamented. “Ye almost done cutting up those cabbages?”
In many regards, Gabe had been spoiled rotten in his shielding from the working world. Chief among them was never having to work any kind of fast food or kitchen work beyond some home-cooked meals for when his parents were out. But much like any job he got assigned with Sean, it was hard to stay too grumpy despite everything conspiring against his mood.
“I’m workin’ on it, dammit.” He shot back, sliding some hastily-chopped cabbage in Sean’s direction. While “chopped” might have been a good descriptor, “even” was absolutely not one that could be used, even charitably. But it was done, more or less. “Can’t say I blame ‘em, though. We had some Chinese-style places back home, but it ain’t the same as the real thing. Or realer, maybe. Still us makin’ it now.”
Dumping the first batch of chow mein into a tall metal hotel pan, Sean let the scent waft into the air. Satisfied, he placed the first batch into the soup well and wrote down the expiry on its lid with a white marker. The dirty wok was tossed straight into the sink, rattling with a heavy ‘CLANG' as it fell inside. He picked up another wok from the dishwasher and shook it out to dry. The few beads of water left inside crackled as he placed the pan onto the stove and poured in sesame oil. The moment the oil became wavy, Sean dumped in the carrots, onions, and freshly-cut cabbage. Juices sizzled as they met the wok’s heat. He glanced over towards the recipe taped to the back wall, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Sure as hell isn’t real if ye make it like this. Come on, they don’t even want ye to mix in oyster sauce? There’s plenty in the cupboards and it isn’t being used in anything else. It’s a damn good thing Chef Roland is in the kitchen,” he boasted. “Have ye had the chance to marinate the firecracker chicken? Needs to go in the fridge by three.”
It was a damn good thing “Chef Roland” was in charge of things. He made it look easy throwing things around with one good arm, with Gabe struggling to keep his various duties going at once. With a curse, he stumbled past Sean to where he’d left the chicken, giving them a few pokes with a pair of tongs. He’d left them to marinate as instructed, but mostly that just meant “cover the shit out of them and leave them alone” to him.
“More or less. I’ll toss ‘em in and grab that oyster sauce.” He said, already hauling the tray full of chicken. “Need anything else while I’m over there?”
“Would ye mind hauling a box of egg rolls from the freezer? They should be just off to the left and–”
Sean paused mid-sentence as his friend passed behind him. He mumbled a confused ‘what the…’ under his breath, grabbing Gabe by the shoulder and forcing him to a stop. Before he could protest, Sean tore off a small paper bag that had been taped onto his back. “How long has this been here? Says it’s addressed to me… someone using ye as a carrier pigeon?”
“Yeah, I got-” Gabe stopped talking when he suddenly felt Sean’s hand on his shoulder, trying to look over his shoulder at his back. “Huh? What’re ya talkin’ ‘bout? Lemme see.”
He hastily shoved the chicken into place in the fridge and grabbed the egg rolls, dropping them onto a free space on the counter and peering around Sean’s side at the mystery package. “It’s my baby, I got just as much a right to see what someone slapped onto my back as ya do. Even if it’s addressed to ya.”
His back...He narrowed his eyes as he recalled the events of earlier today. Lin had been a bit jumpy after she’d run into him, but he thought that was just Lin being Lin. The girl was sneakier than he thought, evidently.
“It doesn’t work like that and ye know it. Package is addressed to one ‘Sean Roland’, and last I checked yer name was still Givemeapieceofthat Crubblegum.”
He stuffed the paper bag into a space in his black non-slip shoes, then cracked open the cardboard box of egg rolls on the counter before laying them in rows of three on a baking sheet. “What if it’s a love letter from a secret admirer? No way I’d have ye lording that one over me for the rest of my days.”