From time to time I’ve had hardened criminals working at my pot sink and at other duties. I remember asking a one of them a question. Getting the answer from them. Then me telling them with a voice of authority, “Pinky Swear”. They replyed; Wut!!. I said; Ya heard me. Pinky Swear Bi+ch! The spider web covered, teary eye inked gentleman gleared a look back at me with sun furrowed face and eyes. Apparently in squinty stare down chef mode. I look dead pan right back at him.
A long Elevator music pause ensued as we looked at each other, minus the music. He tilted his head to the left, like a confused dog listening to everyone on that side of the planet. Then just before I wrenched a butt cheek I had been clenching, he roared with laughter. Casting out with great force from his lungs what could been his first cigarette smoked at the age of two. The Potwasher shaked, flailed and wheezed in another full breath of air just to bellow it out in thunderous laughter again. His Laughter sounded like a monk chanting deep, powerful resonating tones. Affecting in a postivetive mannor all things it came in contact with. Then, I laughed and said” whadda laughing at?”, as I passed by him with a wink and a chuckle. The End