“Order up on table twelve!”

“On it!”

Winston hurried to the serving window where three servings of dessert were waiting to be delivered. Balancing two of the dishes on a small tray with the third sitting snugly on his other palm-up hand, he wended his way between the tables, diners, and other wait staff to what looked to be a family of felines seated by the darkened window.

“Evening!” the rabbit greeted them brightly with a buck-toothed smile, “Who’s having what?”

Each cat in turn indicated what they’d ordered, Winston duly handing out the pumpkin pie, strawberry pound cake, and ‘mocha ice cream trio’. As each dish left his grasp, he an odd pang of sadness that he wouldn’t be the one getting to enjoy them, in fact it was all he could do to stop his mouth watering as he eyed the assorted desserts. He inhaled deeply, as if the hefty lungful of air would squash those envious feelings into submission, then returned to his chipper demeanour: “Hope you enjoy!” Turning tail, he fled back to the kitchen, scooping up some empty dishes from a pair of businessmen deep in serious conversation about who knew what en route.

Once more surrounded by the organised chaos that was the chefs’ domain, Winston dropped the dirty plates and cutlery off with one of the work experience kids who had the unfortunate and tedious job of dishwasher. With no new orders waiting to be delivered, he allowed himself a short break.

Water bottle in hand, the rabbit leaned against the doorframe which led from the kitchen to the breakroom, swigging at regular intervals to combat the billowing cloud of heat that was ever-present in the generally spotless white and stainless-steel room. As he lowered the plastic canteen, his eyes fell upon a notice pinned to notice board (as notices tend to be). Taking a few steps closer allowed him to read more than just the heading, which proclaimed a job opening among the kitchen staff: it seemed that the head baker was departing for greener pastures, leaving a vacancy amongst the team of early risers to account for her understudy assuming the reins. Winston wasn’t unfamiliar with the creation of cakes, cookies, and pies during his time off. In fact he had started to develop quite a reputation amongst his friends and family as the go-to bunny for festive catering.

“You could totally do that,” the little voice in his head said in a firm, encouraging tone.

Yeah! I’d make a great baker!

“It’d be better than being a waiter at least. And think of all the taste-testing you’d get to do.”

Yes! I’ll fix my résumé as soon as I get home!



Story by my friemb  befedelbumps
Part 1 for  roller-2009