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A basketballer’s appetite.
Chapter one: Excited over butching Robinson.
Mitchell
I’m not going out on my first or dream date or anything like that. This is way better, according to me though.
I was going to cook an exclusive 3 course meal for the couple booked for table 10, all by myself. How exciting. If you don’t get how I can get excited over that, let me explain.
My name is Mitchell Potter. I just turned 17 last month. I have an older brother, married and now living in Italy. Dad, mum and me usually visit on vacations and they occasionally fly over. My family is not rich; we are just decent and pretty well aware of the problems and poverty in the world. So one third of our family’s salary goes to charity, and some of the food that me and mum cook.
You see I love cooking even since I was 6. Old enough to have those toy kitchen and real mini-oven of my own and when I turned 9, mum let me in the kitchen to really help her out. At the tender age of 9, I discovered that I have a natural talent for chopping anything that was present on my chopping board or you could say an obsession if you did catch a glimpse of my motions and facial expressions. Back then, I was the devil if you left knives unprotected nearby, now I cease to be a wicked witch with a knife instead of a broom at my disposal.
And I openly admit my obsession of slicing objects into minute pieces to the whole population of Lonsdale High. I don’t have a social life to begin with so why not make them all run, tail between legs whenever I appear. I laugh at their cowardice, note I only managed to scare all of the female population and only a large portion of the male. For that failure in the male department I am still working on.
I remember one time after school; I had made lovely gelati and fruit salad for the cheerleading squad, just because my best friend asked me to and they promised to cover the bill, for their after practice light snack. I had left for the restroom after everything was done and in place and perfect, but when I came back the desserts where merely splashes of colour all over the room and mostly on the floor. As if the room had enough of my death glares and twitching, a basketball rolled slowly out of hiding and my steam train just took off. The basketball team had their practice session at the same time as the cheerleaders that season. And so to seek vengeance, I picked the largest butcher knife in the kitchen and with the fruity coloured ball in one hand I marched to the hall.
When I marched in with the knife and the basketball, my evidence, as well as a wicked grin on my face but fire of a thousand fiery burned in my eyes, everyone stared dumbfounded at me. My fires of fiery are easily ignited so I guess that’s why people run so quickly. But they don’t seem to be running anywhere, only stood stocked still. Who sabotaged the desserts in the economics rooms? I bellowed then in my usual tone of voice. Everyone did nothing but breathed very slowly and quietly. Then the coach approached me without warning so I turned suddenly and the knife I held ended up only centimetres from his face.
Thankfully, he understood my temper and so he tried to calm me down but failed to remove the knife I clutched. And explained that he had no idea and he pointed out that the only one who was allowed to the restroom was my best friend’s crush Adam Robinson. The coach made a huge mistake naming his up and rising star but realised too late as I turned my body, weapons and full attention to the boy standing leisurely near the end hoop. I guess he wanted to be minced and fed to the dogs because he suddenly flashed his famous smirk at me, deliberately.
I began to chase him around the hall and then outside on the field, still with my evidence and weapon in hand continually shouting.
“Be ready to be minced and fed to the dogs Robinson.”
As I aimed the fruity basketball at his head and was about to throw, my best friend cowardly stood stocked in my way. Her eyes firmly shut but her mouth worked over time, throwing reasons after reasons why I shouldn’t kill her crush, Robinson. I gave up and went back and ordered Robinson to scrub the kitchens clean for me while I silently swore to have my sweet vengeance soon.
My best friend, since aged 11, is Annabelle Hopkins. She’s a hopeful romantic, pretty and a cheerleader so athletic comes with it. Anna’s been in love with the same guy for almost 2 years now and I guess that’s because she isn’t that bright. Just joking! I love my best friend more than I love my older brother. Though she admits she isn’t the sharpest pencil in the box.
Note I’m not a member of our high school grapevine or the residential bitch but she seriously needs to rethink about her crush on Adam Robinson. Man, I’d boil and then deep fry him the moment I see him, not even cheat but flirt with one or two girls. Let me rephrase that; I’d happily boil him alive then deep fry him the moment I get my hands on him.
Anna’s spiritually fragile so I become overprotective of her and better yet she doesn’t mind. They’ve being going out for a fortnight now and I’m even more concerned for her then when she still blushed at the sight of him, two weeks previous. And I would just mentally roll my eyes dozens of times before dragging her along, back then. But now I put on a permanent glare whenever he’s present and insult him at the slightest chance I could without Anna around. You can clearly see I dislike this Adam Robinson person because he’s Lonsdale’s residence player and basketball star of Lonsdale’s team the Red Dragons.
Yes, you heard right. I hate him because he plays basketball and is the main man. The reason for my hatred is that they won’t accept female players or be kind enough to have a girl’s team and it did not help to have Robinson butt in with his idiotic beliefs.
Girls should look pretty and cheer on the side lines. Sexist bastard.
If only I could get a chopping board underneath him and a butcher knife in my hand then I’d have an excuse for chopping him into pieces.
Anything that lands on your chopping board was meant for you chop, so chop! I remembered that’s what my uncle first said to me and his trainees in the first instant I walked into his restaurant, aged 10. Blame Uncle if Robinson is found in pieces on a chopping board.
Now, back to my excitement, Uncle had kindly let me take to my own devices and cook for the two people at table 10. They had not arrived yet so I waited at the front with the receptionist and helping her out with the cash register as well. It was extra busy on Friday nights but the kitchen was unbelievably calm so there was nothing else to do but wait.
The clock ticked on but we saw no sign of the supposedly ‘couple’, the restaurant was buzzing and people rushed in and strolled out but no one asked for table 10 reservations.
8:30 pm, the digital clock read, me and Lillian, the receptionist, agreed on ten more minutes then the reservations are cancelled without regrets and table 10 would be gladly handed to other customers.
With nothing else to do I spaced out and planned up ways of torturing Robinson after Anna had seen what he was really worth. And as I planned and grinned wickedly while Lillian stared at me weirdly that was when our wind chime gave a little ring.
Both heads snapped back to the front door. The ringing indicates someone had open the door and so wind had flooded in to abuse the chime. In the doorway, a couple was walking in unhurriedly.
Speaking, or in my case thinking, of the devil, he has arrived with a date on his arm. Table #10. DING. DING. DING.
DING… Oh, wait. I thought and stopped dead in my tracks and the relieved smile on my face obediently froze and subsided.
That dirty-cheating son of a bitch!
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muryoutaisuu.