What Doesn’t Belong in My Kitchen

Excerpt from Super Powers and Secrets, book one of Where Dawson Lives by H. Kaeppel ©2020

“Yo, J! Could you dice some peppers for me?”

“Who Me?” Jeff asked. “Food prep? Really? I’m up to my eyeballs in suds here.”

“You have eyeballs on your elbows?”

Jeff looked from the pot he scrubbed to his arms. It was Saturday afternoon, the time when Jeff and Dawson’s shifts overlapped. Although the two saw plenty of each other throughout the week. Yes, Dawson usually cooked breakfast and lunch but he never went home after that. He holed up in his office and worked into the evening. The two regularly kicked back over coffee in there. Today, Jeff may not have had soap suds actually up to his eyeballs but he did have clumps of them up his arms. Aside from killing time, the dishwasher gig made him appreciate tree farming all the more. Food dirt was gross and smelly. Regular old dirt was actually kind of nice. And the smell of evergreen trees? Well, there was reason why scent manufactures tried to imitate it. “Dishwasher,” Jeff said pointing to himself. “Food prep,” he endeavored to point to … there was no one else but he and Dawson in the kitchen.

Dawson raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Food prep,” he mimicked, and pointed to Jeff. “Everybody wears multiple hats around here.”

As if on cue, and actually she was on cue to Dawson’s, “Order up!” Zoe entered.

“Speaking of hats,” she said. “We’ve been thinking – ”

“Stop.” Dawson help up his hand. “Pretty sure I don’t want to hear who’s been thinking or what the thought is.”

Zoe slumped.

Jeff chuckled.

“Okay, okay,” Dawson gave in.

Zoe perked right back up. “Flo says, and this is SUCH a fabulous idea, I can’t even – ”

Dawson tilted his head. “You can’t even …”

Jeff leaned against the counter full of dirty pots to enjoy the entertainment. Smirk well in place on his face.

“Let me finish.” The teen actually stomped.

This strengthened Jeff’s smirk. And deepened Dawson’s scowl.

“Hats, hats, hats!!” she said. She did something with her fists and arms that reminded Jeff of a cheerleader.

Jeff laughed, teenagers were a hoot. Dawson wrinkled his face. “What?!”

“For the month of October, of course,” she said. “We all wear funny hats every day. The regulars already love the idea. I can’t wait. It’ll be so – ”

Dawson’s scowl turned into an outright growl. “Order’s up, girl,” he said. “Get outta here.”

Zoe quickly picked up her tray, loaded it, and hastily exited. Dawson made sure one more of his growls followed her out. Jeff threw a dish rag at him. It hit its mark exactly. Dirty dish water dripped down the back of Dawson’s neck but not a drop got on any food. Jeff laughed, “Lighten up, Daws.”

Dawson grabbed up the rag and heaved it back. His bad aim landed it just shy of Jeff’s feet. Jeff, laughing at him, bent over to pick it up.

“One of these days, you’re gonna miss,” Dawson said. “And I’ll take the damages out of your pay check.”

“Okay, wow, there’s a lot wrong with that threat.” Jeff kept laughing. “First, my pay check is too small for you to take anything out of it. Second, damages? Really? Third, and don’t you forget this, I never miss.” Jeff looked down at the floor where Dawson’s aim had landed his throw. He looked back at Dawson. “Unlike some people here.”

“Mm-hmm.” Dawson, nodded to the cooler. “Still need those peppers diced.”

“Dawson, buddy,” Jeff said, “I don’t even know what diced means.”

“Minced, diced, chopped.”

“So nothing to do with the little cubes that have dots on them that come in the Parcheesi game?” Jeff asked.

Dawson shook his head. “Hardly.” He sighed. “You ever use a hatchet or an ax at that farm of yours?”

Jeff laughed. “We’ve been using power tools for quite some time now. Dad does have one of each, painted nice and hanging as decorations in his living room.”

“Would you know how to use them?”

“Sure,” said Jeff.

“This is like that,” said Dawson, “only with a knife. You know how to use a knife, don’t you?”

“Got one in my pocket.” Jeff indicated where a pocket might be under the big vinyl dishwashing apron he wore.

Dawson reached for a ten-inch knife. “I don’t think this would do well in your pocket.”

Flo walked in wearing something that could only be described as a dunce hat. “You’re always styling, Flo,” Jeff said.

“Why, thank you,” Flo gave Jeff her warmest smile. Something he often received from her. Dawson never.

Dawson shook his head. “How do you get through doorways with that tall thing?”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been receiving complements on it all day.” Flo stood tall and proud. “It’s worth the inconvenience.”

“Whatever.”

“Hey, Flo,” Jeff said, “you know how to cut up peppers?”

“Dice,” said Dawson.

“Sure do,” she looked over her shoulder to the still swinging doors, “too busy though.” She whisked her loaded tray out to the front.

Dawson smiled wickedly at Jeff. “All yours,” he said. “Need this much.” He held up a plastic bucket big enough to soak feet in.

Jeff groaned and went to grab a couple bushel boxes of bell peppers out of the cooler. He plunked them on the prep counter. The knife felt awkward in his hand. He turned it, eyed it, “how come you asked me about hatchets and axes. What does this have to do with them?”

“Chopping,” Dawson said.

“Didn’t you just say, ‘minced, diced, chopped’?” Jeff asked. “I believe, I was ordered to dice.”

“Whatever,” Dawson said, “just get a move on.”

Jeff viewed the peppers, cutting board, and especially the large knife, with skepticism. While chopping wood wasn’t exactly in the center of tree service work, he’d done it. But it was nothing like this, nothing at all. He’d never chopped anything into pieces as small as the peppers whole. “Dawson, really? You said hatchet and ax. This has nothing to do with that. Nothing!”

“For crying out loud, Jeff,” Dawson said, “I have a farmer in my kitchen.”

“Nothing alike.”

“You got that right. Get a move on,” Dawson hollered over his shoulder, “we don’t have all night.”

“Actually, we do,” Jeff said. “’Fun never stops,’ remember?”

Flo burst in with an oversized bag. “Here you go,” she said, pulling out a, –

“Are you kidding me?” Dawson said.

“Cool,” Jeff said.

“Good,” Flo said. She plopped a pirate hat, extra-large plume and all, on Jeff’s head. “Looks good on you."

“I’m a good looking guy,” said Jeff.

“You are,” said Flo.

Dawson rolled his eyes. “You know what doesn’t belong in my kitchen?”

“What?” asked Flo.

“Pirates.”

Jeff pointed to himself, “But farmers do?”