The Little Devour Corner

Marzeus von Hemelen By Marzeus von Hemelen, 26th Oct 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/3q3zcimx/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Personal Experiences

Mother, Father and I are in town, when lunchtime arrives. Wherever shall we go eat?

Father suggests this new little place he saw open somewhere. Mother's a bit doubtful about it, but Father says let's just try it this once and see.

So we arrive at this little place. "The Little Devour Corner" it says on the door.

The Little Devour Corner

We walk in and what immediately strikes me is that the place have no charm. It's a cold, hard cafee type place with plastic furniture and cold floors and walls.

We walk past this couple already seated and sit down at a table.

Suddenly the biggest stench befalls us. I'm so overbluffed, I'm like what in hell is that rotten stench all of a sudden?

It soon strikes me that the source of the rotten stench is our waiter that has walked into the picture.

He says his name is Reddy.

Charming name I guess. Although I'm not sure why anybody would be called red. Unless he's red, or a Communist or whatever.

But oh god!!!! Please Reddy, don't talk over our table!!! Oh god no, he's talking over our table. The thought of him touching anything that has to do with food and breathing over the food he will be bringing out, fills me with such horror I can barely breathe.

I take a quick glance at Reddy's face. Youngish guy 20something, but it looks like the overuse of drugs have damaged his teeth beyond repair. There's something very wrong with his teeth.

And the source of the stench is the breath coming out of his mouth. OH GOD!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAA!!!! It's a horrible, horrible stench like only god himself can create in one of his evil moods.

As would be usual in a case like this, one doesn't really know how to handle this. You don't want to be rude to someone trying to carry on with their life, but at the same time it would be best if this guy wouldn't work here.

I'm glad when he finally has taken the orders and left around a corner to the kitchen, but it doesn't help much for the entire space encompassing our table, stinks like rotten breath that can kill.

And we're breathing it in and I just know that now our own breaths are going to smell because of the bacteria that went out of this guy's throat and into the air that we're now breathing.

Indeed, for the next week I can taste that horrible smell in my own breath. It really was contagious.

Anyway, once Reddy has gone to the kitchen, Father of course starts commenting on what he thinks so far. He says Reddy is in no way waiter material. Reddy hasn't the good manners or the required attitude.

Then Reddy comes back with the drinks. OH GOD PLEASE NO, NOT SO CLOSE!!!!! I wish I could just tell him to put the food on a table on the other side of the room, then leave, and then I'll hold my breath and run and grab it quickly and bring it over here.

Unfortunately of course, he does bring it right to our small table which is so small, when he stands by it it feels like he's hovering right over us and we can smell each and every nuance of his breath. I wish he would hurry up and go before I puke.

Then he takes the orders. We'll just have the sheep pie.

The thought of Reddy breathing with those damaged drug abused teeth and horrid stench of a germ infested breath in the kitchen and over our food, fills me with a disgust I can't even begin to express.

This is on top of the disappointing "orange juice" I ordered which tastes more like a thickened sugar syrup with some chemicals made to give the drinker a severe headache.

I take a look at the plastic bottle the "orange juice" came in, to see what brand creates such horrid juice. "Absolutely Perfect Juice" is the name of the brand. Figures.

Father's "milkshake" makes him want to go berzerk. He specifically asked Reddy for a not-too-sweet milkshake, but instead what came appears to be a dark pink milkshake syrup in milk with about a teaspoon of ice cream, tasting so sweet that a perfectly healthy person would develop severe diabetes with just this one drink.

Reddy and a rather neat black woman bring the sheep pies. I wonder what this poor black chick must think, working with such horrid unprofessional white people. Poor thing.

And I think we expected restaurant pie to be dished up in those small round or rectangular single serving pie dishes. Instead what we get is these small supermarket type pies about the size of one's palm, resting all alone on a big dinnerplate.

As Mother puts it, the small little pie looks so very lonely on a plate.

They bring a bit of salad in an extra plate for each of us. This fills the small little table with much too many plates for it to hold, that the guy of the couple at the other table shouts in such a stern voice, "REDDY, PUT THOSE THINGS (the table ornaments including some decorative pots and stuff that were in the center of the table) ON ANOTHER TABLE!!"

I'm almost scared hearing such stern shouting, even though it wasn't directed at me. Reddy obliges and makes more space at our table by removing the unnecessary things. That guy must be a regular here or something, feeling familiar enough to scream orders at Reddy in a cross principal voice.

But anyway, the sheep pie doesn't taste bad. We enjoy the little supermarket type pies. It just grosses me out to think that Reddy breathed over it and for all we know helped in the warming up of it. (The pies are made by a 3rd party and then just heated up here.) It would have been better if Reddy didn't come anywhere near food that other people are supposed to eat.

Another older guy who's been mostly back in the kitchen up to this point, brings Father another milkshake, to make up for the horrid piece of crap that was the first "milkshake".

This time it's much better, but Father still doesn't think much of it. At least it would appear it was made with more ice cream this time.

The older guy is friendly at least, which is something lacking with Reddy's personality. The older guy says they're still learning.

Anyway, when we leave, Mother tells the older guy that perhaps they can put a little branch of green onion or something leafy or parsley or whatever with the pie in the plate, just to present it better.

But yeah, as he says, they're still learning.

We leave there on friendly terms. However, I think it's quite obvious to the three of us that we won't be returning to The Little Devour Corner any time soon.

As we leave in the car, Father says it's probably somebody who's been retrenched at the mine who is now trying his hand at restauranteurism.

But, Father and Mother do not think that this place is going to make it long.

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Tags

Cafe, Cooking, Devour, Eat, Eating, Eating Place, Food, Restaurant, Review

Meet the author

author avatar Marzeus von Hemelen
I like eggs for breakfast. I live on top of a hill inside a beautiful but old dwelling complex. I like to take life in through my senses and then give feedback through my writing.

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