Friday, 6 November 2015

Norbert Ramsbottom's Kitchen Nightmares: Reality show -- fantasy style

Trolls don't normally make good chefs. Jason, yes I agree -- an odd name for a troll, hawked and spat whilst stirring a large cauldron, simmering nicely on the open hearth. The smell from the cauldron would hardly make your mouth water, strip the lining from your throat perhaps, but it could hardly be called appealing.

"Is it ready yet?" Art asked, his head appearing around the door as though devoid of a body. Jason grunted. What the grunt meant was anyone's guess. Art frowned. Goblins always frowned so, in fact, Art's facial expression didn't change, but Jason sensed his irritation, hawked and spat again, not caring that his grey-green phlegm went into his culinary delight.

Art shrugged. "I knew it was a mistake taking on a troll in the kitchen."
Jason growled and continued to stir the over-sized pot. Art looked around the tiny backroom. It used to be a busy kitchen, but since taking Jason on as a bottle washer the other staff seemed to have left or ... well, disappeared. Promotion for Jason to chef had been all too swift.

Art raised a clawed hand, "Not that I'm complaining," he offered quickly. "It's just that business has dropped off recently. Do you think our menu is too varied?"

Jason grunted and continued to stir. This was it, the only item on offer and apart from take it or leave it, this was the only choice.

"Perhaps I need a new marketing strategy?" Art offered up hopefully. "Perhaps targeting the Walking Dead or Ghouls. They're not fussy...or so I've heard."

Art peered over the cauldron's rim, careful not to get too close to Jason's reach. Last week there had been four waiters, now there were only two and they were very nervous. Very nervous indeed. Waiters were hard to come by and usually only elves, hard-up on their luck, applied. Still, staff shortages meant profits were up.

"What about that celebrity, Norbert Ramsbottom," Art declared in a flash. "I've heard he's turned around the fortunes of many a kitchen."

"Wot 'e taste like?" Jason asked.

Art was taken aback. Jason rarely spoke. "I think he uses his tongue like everyone else," he said, his eye narrowed in a suspicious manner.

Jason grunted.

Art walked out of the kitchen and was shocked to see that the restaurant was full for a change. At every table sat an over-sized troll. Drool formed puddles on the table tops in anticipation of the coming...feast? Art brightened, things were looking up. He failed to spot the hungry looks that followed him around the room.

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