Blood
Like a scene from The Exorcist, I once spewed a stomach-full of blood all over a charming nurse as I came round after a major dental operation. Tell us your tales of red, red horror.
( , Thu 7 Aug 2008, 14:39)
Like a scene from The Exorcist, I once spewed a stomach-full of blood all over a charming nurse as I came round after a major dental operation. Tell us your tales of red, red horror.
( , Thu 7 Aug 2008, 14:39)
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Can I get a reeepost?
I was working as a KP/pref chef in this small restaurant, so small in fact that there were only two chef.This particular week one of the chefs was off on holiday, leaving the other chef to cover every shift.
He was in from 9 until 11/12 every day as we had a lot of lunchtime business, and by Thursday he was feeling pretty knackered. After the lunchtime rush he adjourned to the neighbouring pub for a pint or two and returned to work seeming somewhat more sprightly. Just as customers were starting to appear for dinner he was in the kitchen, chopping chops with his chopper, he said something to me and I turned around just in time to see him whack the cleaver right into his hand.
(brief pause to allow the hand/cleaver interface moment sink in)
So he's standing there in the middle of the kitchen, holding his hand which is litterally spurting blood, it's not gushing but it is oozing and squirting somewhat, the waitress has dropped her plates, he's screaming, she's screaming, the manager has just walked in and is blethering like he can't figure out what's going on (which is business as usual for him), I'm laughing and trying to find a cleanish cloth to wrap his hand with.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, this restaurant has an open kitchen.
That means the customers have a full view of this scene just as they're tucking into their brioche, they're sitting there, open mouthed as this 6 foot 5 frenchman screams like a little girl and gets the wrong kind of claret all over his whites and the manager blubbers like a fat kid who's just found a sheeps lung in his lunch box (don't tell me you've never played that trick at school)
We had to ask the customers to leave and we closed up early, the chef returned to work the next day with severed tendons and a fractured thumb, I was promoted to "assistant chef" for my trouble, and the restaurant itself closed a few months later due to managerial incompetence.
So remember kids, always keep your eye on your chopper when you swing it.
Length? A good six inches of british steel
( , Fri 8 Aug 2008, 18:12, Reply)
I was working as a KP/pref chef in this small restaurant, so small in fact that there were only two chef.This particular week one of the chefs was off on holiday, leaving the other chef to cover every shift.
He was in from 9 until 11/12 every day as we had a lot of lunchtime business, and by Thursday he was feeling pretty knackered. After the lunchtime rush he adjourned to the neighbouring pub for a pint or two and returned to work seeming somewhat more sprightly. Just as customers were starting to appear for dinner he was in the kitchen, chopping chops with his chopper, he said something to me and I turned around just in time to see him whack the cleaver right into his hand.
(brief pause to allow the hand/cleaver interface moment sink in)
So he's standing there in the middle of the kitchen, holding his hand which is litterally spurting blood, it's not gushing but it is oozing and squirting somewhat, the waitress has dropped her plates, he's screaming, she's screaming, the manager has just walked in and is blethering like he can't figure out what's going on (which is business as usual for him), I'm laughing and trying to find a cleanish cloth to wrap his hand with.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, this restaurant has an open kitchen.
That means the customers have a full view of this scene just as they're tucking into their brioche, they're sitting there, open mouthed as this 6 foot 5 frenchman screams like a little girl and gets the wrong kind of claret all over his whites and the manager blubbers like a fat kid who's just found a sheeps lung in his lunch box (don't tell me you've never played that trick at school)
We had to ask the customers to leave and we closed up early, the chef returned to work the next day with severed tendons and a fractured thumb, I was promoted to "assistant chef" for my trouble, and the restaurant itself closed a few months later due to managerial incompetence.
So remember kids, always keep your eye on your chopper when you swing it.
Length? A good six inches of british steel
( , Fri 8 Aug 2008, 18:12, Reply)
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