Little Things

Butterfingers

It was dawning on the sous-chef that he wasn't quite over the argument he'd had with his boss the other day. He cut himself while chopping the liver for the tomate farci au foie. He burned his hand on the stove, once while browning bones for the espagnole, and another time while collecting drippings. He splashed bouillon court all over himself - thank God for chef's whites - when he dropped the shank in the pot for extra flavour.  "It's because I can still feel his eyes on me, even though he isn't really there", thought he. He felt a little better when he took the chef's eyes out of their jar on the fridge, and dumped them in the blender.