I Spit in Your Food

More about my coworkers. This time it’s about John. John is one of our cooks, a large, beefy man that looks like he could tear your arms off. The sort of man you show respect to, even if you don’t respect him at all. He is a great guy, cooking his food in a timely manner and always willing to do a little bit extra to make the day go by easier. His personality and sense of humor is, however, not so great.
One day I walked into the back to stop the annoying beeping of the deep fryer and “pull” some more food to the front. Pulling is the act of removing an item from an oven or warmer. The “front” is the area that the customers get to see, and place their order at.
John was in the middle of telling a story. I came in part way through, so I don’t know how the story came up but I was able to figure out that he was talking about a dream. And what a dream it was.
The first line I heard was “So there I was, knees on her chest, and hands wrapped around her neck, like this.” He then proceeded to form his hands in a mime of chocking someone. “And I was shaking her and shaking her till she stopped fighting. Then I woke up sweating. It was one messed up dream.”
So, John had a dream about beating his wife or a girlfriend, or some other sort of female company. And felt compelled to tell people in the kitchen about it.
I now affectionately call him “the wife beater” in my head.