The Monkey King's Used Primate Emporium and Book Reviews

Frank Cho, �Liberty Meadows � Creature Comforts�

First off, Cho is an amazing artist who is practically too good to be drawing three panel newspaper comics, though he doesn�t do it for a newspaper anymore. Second, he�s heavily influenced by Berkeley Breathed, which is a big plus in my book. He�s not always funny, and I�ve seen a few recycled or stolen gags, but he hits more than he misses.

Best of all, the womanizing, alcoholic chain smoking character (in other words, Steve Dallas from Bloom County) is a pig named Dean.

Awesome.

And that�s all I have to say about that. Back to the restaurant story, which began here.

So I was locked out of my own workplace. In February. While it was raining. When he opened the door 45 minutes later, I was livid.

�I�ve been here nearly five fucking years, and every fucking day that I work I get here fucking early and now you�re gonna say that I can�t come in to have fucking coffee before my fucking shift starts? What the fuck is wrong with you fucking people?�

I went to punch in, but the new guy hadn�t figured out how to start the computer. I stood next to him for a minute and then stormed away.

I had to start setting up my kitchen line. There�s a lot of metal used in the kitchen, and you can bet that I was making as much noise as I could with everything. Pots banged, buckets of ice were flung rather than poured, doors slammed open and shut. Meanwhile, I cursed a blue streak.

The cashier later related what happened to me. The new manager called Brian, the one who instigated all of this.

�Um, there�s kind of a problem,� he said nervously, �you know that guy Punker, the one you said not to let in until eight? He�s, uh... he�s really mad.�

�What�s he doing?� Brian asked.

�He�s uh, he�s making a lot of noise. Banging stuff around, and swearing a lot.�

�Did he swear at you?�

�Yeah, he called me a fu... uh, he said I was a moron and he used the f-word with it.�

�Well, we can�t have that kind of behavior in the store. You�ll have to write him up.�

I was still banging things around and cursing when he approached me.

�Um,� he stammered. �You�ve been rather loud and abrasive since you came in, and disrespectful. I�m afraid I�m gonna have to write you up.� He put a piece of paper on the counter. �You'll need to sign this, saying you understand.�

I stopped and looked at him. He backed up a couple of steps.

�How fucking stupid do you think I am? I�ve been here nearly five years, and I�ve never been written up. Brian�s trying to start a paper trail to justify firing me and then not have to pay unemployment. I�ve been friends with enough managers to know that�s how you operate. So you know what? I�m not signing anything. Don�t like it? Fuck you. Fire me.�

�Um, I�ll call Brian back.�

�Yeah, do that. And tell him he�s a chickenshit for making you do this.�

Ten minutes later, he was back. �Ok, Punker,� he said. �Brian told me to tell you that you�re fired.�

�Fine,� I said. �Tell you what, since you didn�t have the computer set up, I haven�t punched in for today. Rather than try to figure it out, I�ll just put every thing back. It�ll be like I was never here.�

I started pouring the sauces back into their trays, carrying them to the walk-in refrigerator. The new guy trotted behind me, telling me I needed to leave the premises.

�In a minute. It won�t take long to put all this back.� I put the sauces back and headed again for the kitchen line.

The only people who had worked there as long as I had were the prep cooks in the back, most of them Mexicans with limited English skills. We got along fine, and one of my best memories was teaching the entire crew to sing �Kill all the White Man� by NoFX, which made management very nervous. Now one of them, a guy we called Superman because nobody could pronounce his real name, ran up to me.

�Wha hoppened?� Superman asked.

�Fired,� I told him.

He looked shocked, then angry. �Brian?�

�Yeah.�

�I fucking kill Brian.�

�Thanks,� I said.

I brought a new tray of food back to the refrigerator, the new guy still following behind me. As I walked past him he tried to block the way. I turned and squeezed past, and he grabbed me by the arm.

I took martial arts for a little while. I don�t remember much of it, but sometimes it floods back. This was one of those times and I grabbed his arm, pushed in at the elbow and shoved him against the wall.

�You grabbed me first. Touch me again and I�ll break your fucking arm, got that?� I looked over to the prep cooks who were all watching. �You saw him grab me?�

�That�s right,� Superman said. �You grabbed heem.�

The guy went back to the office.

I didn�t break anything. I didn�t throw anything away. I just put everything back and turned everything off, because I knew none of these managers, all of whom would spend all day in the office and ogling the waitstaff, knew how to operate anything in the kitchen. I was done and gone within fifteen minutes.

One of the waiters called me at two that afternoon. �Dude,� he said, �They still can�t serve half of our menu! The place is a fucking disaster!�

�Excellent,� I said.

Later that week I had to go back to pick up my final paycheck. I had written a farewell letter, which the cashier posted in the booth. Since the managers only ever went in the booth and the letter was facing the outside of the window, it stayed up for two weeks before they noticed it � long enough for every member of the staff to see it first. The letter read:

Brian,

In the series for The Hitchiker�s Guide to the Galaxy (I don�t remember which book, but that hardly matters as I�m fairly sure the only book you�ve read is Mein Kampf for management tips), there is a side chapter about a man named Grunthos.

Grunthos was a man destined to bring pain and misery and ultimately the end of the world. In a desperate attempt to save life and civilization, His own spine took matters upon itself and leaped through his neck to throttle his brain.

I bring this up because I always had a romantic hope that this would happen to you. The sad truth of the matter is that you have neither a spine, nor a brain to throttle.

Hope you don�t believe in Karma.

-Dean

A week later I had applied for unemployment. I got a call from the overseer of my case. He asked what seemed to be the standard questions, and I answered them. Then he threw a left hook.

�So what�s this about you threatening your boss in a letter?�

�Excuse me?�

�Yeah, I have a note that you wrote to him.�

�Have you read the note?� I asked.

He hadn�t. I told him I would wait. Two minutes passed. Then he starting laughing. I had to wait for him to regain his composure.

�Ok, so does that sound like a threat to you?� I asked.

�No, it doesn�t,� he said. �I�m going to approve your claim, you should get your first check within two weeks.�

The first appeal filed by the restaurant had this poor guy who knew nothing of the situation trying to justify what had happened. It went something like, �Well, see Punker... I�m sorry, I don�t know his real name.�

�He worked there for almost five years and you don�t know his name?� the mediator asked.

�No, that�s what he liked to be called.�

The mediator looked at me. �Is that true?� she asked.

�Well, they called me that,� I responded, �but I always thought they were making fun of me. I begged them, begged them to knock it off, but they never would.�

The mediator looked back at the new guy.

�I wouldn�t know about that. It was my first day. But see, he showed up early...�

�Wait, wait, wait. You say he showed up early?�

�Uh, yeah, it seemed he always showed up around seven or seven-thirty, but he wasn�t supposed to start until eight.�

�So you�re saying he was always early.�

�Yes.�

�You can see why I�m confused, right? I�ve never heard of management being angry that an employee showed up early.�

It didn�t get any better for him. That�s why I won all three appeals.

It�s important to remember kiddies � always go out in style. And I�m one styling motherfucker.

Finally, since we�re talking about food, I�m sure most of you have heard about Wendy�s new Finger Food Menu. What you probably didn�t know is that where that happened is four blocks away from my house.

I really thought I was more thorough with the meat grinder. I�m getting sloppy in my old age.

Worth keeping? Yep! I don�t know where I�m gonna keep it, but yep!