THE KNIFE
What I found in the kitchen…
I was at my wit's end looking for a nice, quiet place to simply read my book, when I was overcome with terrible pangs of hunger.
Now you see, Sarah Jacobs was a guest, it was just that there was no one else to cook and she had so gratefully said yes (contrary to belief, there is a small kitchen in the Lodging House, although it is very rarely used, save the newsies who like to take their lady friends back there to get "better acquainted" as you might say.)
Yet, how do I say this, Sarah was a rather horrid cook. I had gotten ill over the, oh what can I call it besides odious mush that she served us and nearly got food poisoning.
So, you could see my natural fear of eating any of the meals that Sarah prepared. As I stood outside the door to the kitchen, clutching my book to my chest, I scoured my mind for what on earth there was to eat that she didn't have to prepare.
The only thing that came to mind was…
"Sarah?" I cautiously asked, lightly rapping on the door.
I heard the immense clatter of pots and pans falling to the ground, that which made me wince, and the harried voice reply, "What? What do you want?"
I slowly pushed open the door and peeked my head inside. What I saw astounded me. The kitchen looked like a tornado had ripped threw it. Pots and pans were scattered everywhere. Batter and sauce was splattered all over the walls, the counter, even on the cook in question herself.
I cleared my throat. "Sarah, do you have any…?"
But I was cut short, when Sarah spun around and with a mighty heave, accompanied by an ear splitting scream, threw one of the pots she had in her hand in my direction. I let out a yelp and quickly shut the door, only to hear the thud of the pot impacting the door and the clatter of it falling to the floor.
I let out a low whistle. This girl needed some serious help.
Cautiously opening the door once more, I gathered my courage and stepped inside (nearly slipping on a puddle of sauce on the floor,) shutting the door behind me.
I let my eyes wander the room. "Sarah, what the bloody happened in here!"
Sarah's narrowed eyes locked on mine. "Food! That's what happened, food!" she screamed, having yet another pot at my head. Lucky me I ducked just in time.
Right. I took a deep breath, "Sarah, do you have any ice?"
She let out a high-pitched giggle. "Ice? Ice? Go to one of the blasted lakes in Central Park when it is cold out and find yourself some ruddy ice!"
I raised an eyebrow as I slowly backed away to the door. Perhaps I should just leave Sarah alone and go to Tibby's to find some food…
My hand reached the knob as I heard her low voice say, "Tell me. Did you see them? Did you see them?"
"See who?" I inquired, turning around. Yet, I was cut short by a holler ripping out of my throat.
"What?" Sarah asked nonchalantly.
"What? What? You're holding a bloody knife in your hand?" I cried.
Sarah brought the rather large butcher's knife she held in her hand to her face. She ran her finger over the edges, making it gleam in the sun's rays.
"Oh, don't be silly," she laughed. "This is for cutting the food. Why? What did you think I was going to use it for?"
I held back what I desperately wished to say. "Uh, nothing," I stammered, flattening myself against the door.
Sarah locked gazes with me and stood so she was a mere inch away from me, the knife nearly touching my nose. "You never answered my question. Did you see them?"
"Who?" I squeaked.
"Jack and that whore!" she bellowed, spinning around and heaving the knife so it stuck in one of the cabinet doors.
"What whore?" I stammered, my knees now quite shaking.
"Oh, you know!" she cried. "The one that is a guest here for the weekend. Josie whatever-the-hell-her-name-is. Jack and she have been kissing like dogs in heat all over this damn building!"
Keeping my wide eyes on Sarah, I used my left hand to desperately feel for the knob.
Sarah strolled over to the cabinet, which harbored the knife and with a quick thrust, pulled it out amidst crackling wood. Keeping her eyes on the knife, she stroked the blade, her voice low with fury. "It was perfect. He didn't want to exclude me, so he invites me here as cook. I have to slave away in the kitchen all day catering to his guests, and he then has all that free time to fill with that little hussy. Well, he isn't going to make a fool out of Sarah Jacobs. No way in hell he isn't."
I believe my sweaty hand grasp the knob and swung the door open at precisely the same moment I saw Sarah's arm sling back with the knife in her grasp.
The moment the door slammed behind me was the moment that the blade penetrated the door.
"I think I will just eat at Tibby's, madam!" I called back to her, as I ran out of that horrid kitchen as fast as my legs would carry me.
It was not until I reached Tibby's that I could fully calm my shaken nerves.
As I held my book in my shaking grasp, my mind began to whirl.
Sarah thinks that old Jack is cheating on her?
A deranged girlfriend with a grudge against her boyfriend…and a rather large knife.
What I found in the kitchen…
I was at my wit's end looking for a nice, quiet place to simply read my book, when I was overcome with terrible pangs of hunger.
Now you see, Sarah Jacobs was a guest, it was just that there was no one else to cook and she had so gratefully said yes (contrary to belief, there is a small kitchen in the Lodging House, although it is very rarely used, save the newsies who like to take their lady friends back there to get "better acquainted" as you might say.)
Yet, how do I say this, Sarah was a rather horrid cook. I had gotten ill over the, oh what can I call it besides odious mush that she served us and nearly got food poisoning.
So, you could see my natural fear of eating any of the meals that Sarah prepared. As I stood outside the door to the kitchen, clutching my book to my chest, I scoured my mind for what on earth there was to eat that she didn't have to prepare.
The only thing that came to mind was…
"Sarah?" I cautiously asked, lightly rapping on the door.
I heard the immense clatter of pots and pans falling to the ground, that which made me wince, and the harried voice reply, "What? What do you want?"
I slowly pushed open the door and peeked my head inside. What I saw astounded me. The kitchen looked like a tornado had ripped threw it. Pots and pans were scattered everywhere. Batter and sauce was splattered all over the walls, the counter, even on the cook in question herself.
I cleared my throat. "Sarah, do you have any…?"
But I was cut short, when Sarah spun around and with a mighty heave, accompanied by an ear splitting scream, threw one of the pots she had in her hand in my direction. I let out a yelp and quickly shut the door, only to hear the thud of the pot impacting the door and the clatter of it falling to the floor.
I let out a low whistle. This girl needed some serious help.
Cautiously opening the door once more, I gathered my courage and stepped inside (nearly slipping on a puddle of sauce on the floor,) shutting the door behind me.
I let my eyes wander the room. "Sarah, what the bloody happened in here!"
Sarah's narrowed eyes locked on mine. "Food! That's what happened, food!" she screamed, having yet another pot at my head. Lucky me I ducked just in time.
Right. I took a deep breath, "Sarah, do you have any ice?"
She let out a high-pitched giggle. "Ice? Ice? Go to one of the blasted lakes in Central Park when it is cold out and find yourself some ruddy ice!"
I raised an eyebrow as I slowly backed away to the door. Perhaps I should just leave Sarah alone and go to Tibby's to find some food…
My hand reached the knob as I heard her low voice say, "Tell me. Did you see them? Did you see them?"
"See who?" I inquired, turning around. Yet, I was cut short by a holler ripping out of my throat.
"What?" Sarah asked nonchalantly.
"What? What? You're holding a bloody knife in your hand?" I cried.
Sarah brought the rather large butcher's knife she held in her hand to her face. She ran her finger over the edges, making it gleam in the sun's rays.
"Oh, don't be silly," she laughed. "This is for cutting the food. Why? What did you think I was going to use it for?"
I held back what I desperately wished to say. "Uh, nothing," I stammered, flattening myself against the door.
Sarah locked gazes with me and stood so she was a mere inch away from me, the knife nearly touching my nose. "You never answered my question. Did you see them?"
"Who?" I squeaked.
"Jack and that whore!" she bellowed, spinning around and heaving the knife so it stuck in one of the cabinet doors.
"What whore?" I stammered, my knees now quite shaking.
"Oh, you know!" she cried. "The one that is a guest here for the weekend. Josie whatever-the-hell-her-name-is. Jack and she have been kissing like dogs in heat all over this damn building!"
Keeping my wide eyes on Sarah, I used my left hand to desperately feel for the knob.
Sarah strolled over to the cabinet, which harbored the knife and with a quick thrust, pulled it out amidst crackling wood. Keeping her eyes on the knife, she stroked the blade, her voice low with fury. "It was perfect. He didn't want to exclude me, so he invites me here as cook. I have to slave away in the kitchen all day catering to his guests, and he then has all that free time to fill with that little hussy. Well, he isn't going to make a fool out of Sarah Jacobs. No way in hell he isn't."
I believe my sweaty hand grasp the knob and swung the door open at precisely the same moment I saw Sarah's arm sling back with the knife in her grasp.
The moment the door slammed behind me was the moment that the blade penetrated the door.
"I think I will just eat at Tibby's, madam!" I called back to her, as I ran out of that horrid kitchen as fast as my legs would carry me.
It was not until I reached Tibby's that I could fully calm my shaken nerves.
As I held my book in my shaking grasp, my mind began to whirl.
Sarah thinks that old Jack is cheating on her?
A deranged girlfriend with a grudge against her boyfriend…and a rather large knife.