It's no cake walk when....

Mar 22, 2016

Writing Club

So I don't know if I have ever explained where some of these rather random posts come from.  I am part of a writing group that gets together and we have a box of prompts.  Someone selects a paper from the idea box and we take anywhere from 15-30 minutes to write about it.  Then we read what we've each created to each other.  It's just as interesting to see what everyone ended up with.  Sometimes we have huge variety and sometimes we end up with similar trains of thought.  
So usually I write about the first thing that pops into my head.  That's pretty much all there is time for.  

This was a fun one.  The only prompt we were given was as below.  I don't know why I ended up with this craziness, but here it is.  

Prompt: It’s no cake walk when….
30 minutes

It’s no cake walk when the cook’s lost in thought.

As to where his silver flask has got.

Beery batter overflows or fish in the pan flops and cowers,

Or bother, the bottle’s been tipped and into the brink drips.

The pound cake pummels to the floor like a stone to the pastry’s chef’s moan.

Well sugared, the wine clerk sets the tone.

Passing on the flask in favour of a coloured glass,

He hides in the cooler.

When plastered thickly, cook let the oven cool too quickly.

So he’s turned up the flame on the burner for the meal orders to fill.

After a pint or a pebble, the dishwasher’s screechily singing treble.

Gin or no, the sotty sods on so.

Soaping suds and glugging down duds.

Or tripping gaily over floured pots until,

The soda’s gone sour and the cook’s a mite dour,

Or dough faced, he’s soaked in the swill.

Stirring up broth and adding carrots he sought,

Amid the mire no one’s noted the kitchen’s afire.

Till the waiter’s come back full plates on the platter.

Dishes come to a clatter when he sees the matter.

And along marched the Maître’D,

Who’s really quite sober since his tankard is full of tea.

It fell with a splash, he froze a gasp the torrid array he did see,

The chef’s en flambé, the staff’s run away.

Then manager gawks as a fireman knocks

Through the frosted window pane with a ladder.