‘Lou’ Price stood awkwardly in the apron and hairnet trying to make pancakes. It was eight in the morning, and breakfast was expected. He opened the cabinet, brought out the various dishes and managed to burn yet another pancake. The fridges were full, the curtains next to them blowing in a light breeze, but they would want pancakes. It was Sunday.

Lou pushed aside the light curtains, and ignored the sunlight streaming through the windows. He hated cooking. Especially for these guys, it was awful. But someone had to do it. After looking at what he had completed he rang the little bell that notified that man who notified everyone else it was mealtime. Lou stepped outside.

The cafeteria of the high security criminal detention center on this particular island was no different from the others. Metal immovable chairs and tables, lighting that could not be reached and a bulletproof glass window that stood between Lou and his customers. As usual, these clients of the correctional system would walk over in their orange outfits, the only thing colorful in the midst of the nailed down grey furniture, the doors would click shut, never to be opened from the inside, the guards would watch from little windows, the men would line up and demand their food. And Lou would have to listen to them complain about his cooking.

“For crying out loud, what did you do to these?” was the first comment that morning. Lou bit his tongue. Best not to say something snarky to the prisoners.

“My pancakes are burnt on the outside, uncooked on the inside!”

“Didja really go to a cooking school?” One guy asked.

“Yes, I did.” Lou lied.

“If it wasn’t for this glass wall, man.” Lou gulped at that, for the man was a good 6 inches taller, and far more muscular. Lou never understood why they would allow prisoners to work out. Any one of these guys could just snap Lou in half. Lovely.

A man with a shock of blonde hair was next in line. An unfamiliar face. Lou looked at him. His hair was chin length, he was rather pale and thin. Lou didn’t think he was overly muscular like the others, probably very new. They just caught him. Most criminals weren’t instantly shipped off into high security prisons. Not that Lou really bothered with knowing these guys. The blonde man came up eventually, and Lou braced himself for the diatribe.

“Is this the usual sort of breakfast you have? I did hear that Sundays were something special.”

“Yes, pancakes for breakfast on Sundays. Here you go.” Lou tried to hand him his food, but the man dodged quickly.

“Well, I prefer crumpets, myself. Perhaps with some strawberry jam or marmalade to accompany them?”

“There’s nothing like that here.”

“Good god! No marmalade? How barbaric. Strawberry jam and marmalade are the two most basic pleasures of man.”

“Well, sorry, stick with your pancakes.” He managed to toss the pancakes on the tray and moved on to the next guy.

“What about porridge?” The man continued, ignoring the fact that Lou was ignoring him, “Anything civilized?”

“No. We do not have anything ‘civilized’.” Lou ground out. “This is a prison. You put yourself here, buddy. Now leave.”

“Why, I’m hurt at your accusations!” The man cried. Shaking his tray and flipping a pancake or two. “Those people deserved exactly what they received. I say, you look out of sorts; perhaps you need another, better, set of hands with you in the kitchen? I’ve been known for the best deviled eggs, and my hollandaise sauce? Marvelous.”

“Take your meal and leave, please.” Lou was getting more than a little frazzled.

But the man still didn’t leave, even while Lou served the others. Already wallowing in self-pity, Lou was bombarded by inane chatter, insults and threats from both sides.

“Lou, you’re a horrible cook. Never work in this prison again.”

“I say, other than that atrocious monstrosity (or would monstrous atrocity be more appropriate?) you call breakfast, I do believe you might be a nice sort of chap.”

“Once I get out of here, my boys will do you in real good.”

“Good grief, did you hear that? Are you not frightened for your life?”

“Is this what you call a pancake? What the heck?”

“You must pardon the lad, he’s obviously never lifted a culinary utensil in his life.”

“Have you ever been sleepin’ with the fishes, sonny?”

“I was not aware that fish slept with people. How interesting.”

Lou snapped, after some minor stuttering and choking. It was as if the wall of patience just crashed down in his head.

“Why are you still here?” The man blinked at that and then tilted his head.

“I was bored. This is far more interesting than conversing with my inmates.” The inmates he was referring to had already sat down and were loudly conversing about lewd topics. Lou sighed.

“I don’t care what you are rambling about, you will sit at a random table, eat and stay the heck away from me! Or else I’ll call those guards in here!” He said in a fierce whisper. The blonde man threw his hands in the air.

“Alright, I understand. You’re mind is too pathetic to converse with the likes of me, I hear you.” He paused and grabbed his tray, “I will leave and try to digest these equally pitiful pieces of rubbish.”

Lou rubbed his temples. This was going to be a long week.

AN: My first work that I'm posting with some genuine nervousness. I really like this one, so I'd love to read some reviews.

Oh and when I wrote the 'fish slept with people' line...I didn't think of it the naughty way. Until my mother said, "that's very naughty"...and I was all "??" and then she had to remind me that the line could use 'sleep' as in to copulate.

For all those who know me and are shocked to read this; I had no idea.