The smell of grease consumed Arthur, blocking out everything but the heat that billowed up off the deep-fat fryers. He stared blankly into the four steaming vats of oil in the narrow cook aisle inside the Happy Hamburger Drive-In Restaurant.
On one side of the aisle was a large grill, bun preparation area, and condiment bar. On the opposite were the four fryers with french-fry scoop station. All done in gleaming stainless steel because it was easier to clean.
Arthur Hanrahan had the job of manning the fryers.
“Hanrahan!” A voice screamed from behind. “Fries! We need more fries!”
“Yes, Mr. Finklemeyer.” Arthur mumbled. He opened the freezer door and let out a sigh that ached of tedium. His movements were slow, robotic. Anyone watching would either assume that Arthur spent life moving through an atmosphere of jelly, or that he was just plain dead inside. In this case it was the latter. Working at the Happy Hamburger had killed Arthur’s spirit and general will to live.
Arthur placed a handful of frozen fries into a small, rectangular, steel mesh basket, and plunged the basket into the boiling vegetable oil. He stood, motionless, stoic, statuesque, gazing with feigned interest at the fries as they bubbled, popped, and hissed in the liquid fat.
Arthur could sense the frenzied activity going on behind him as F. Fredrick Finklemeyer, the manager of the Happy Hamburger, created hamburgers at supersonic speed. Arthur just stood and waited on the fries. Wishing, no praying, that there was more to life than the Happy Hamburger.
That’s when the penguin walked in. It waddled up the cook aisle, stopped at Arthur’s feet, and looked up at him expectantly.
Arthur blinked in disbelief.
The penguin blinked back.
Arthur gaped and shook his head.
The penguin gave Arthur a wink.
Arthur took a quick step back and nearly stumbled into the fryers.
The penguin flapped its flippers and squawked in a way that only penguins can.
Arthur looked from the penguin to his fellow co-workers. His skin began to crawl as he realized that only he noticed that there was a small, flightless waterfowl standing in their cook aisle.
The penguin gave Arthur another wink, motioned to the back door with a nod of the head, and waddled its way to the exit.
Arthur stood petrified.
The penguin turned, gave Arthur another wink and then waved it’s flipper in a way that told Arthur he wanted him to follow, then the penguin waddled out the back door.
Arthur used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, turned to look again at his co-workers, all of which were ignoring him, then tore off his apron, threw it to the grease covered floor, and followed the penguin.
Arthur found the penguin outside, leaning against the back wall of The Happy Hamburger.
“You’re wasting time,” the penguin said
“You can talk?” Arthur questioned.
“Of course I can talk”
“But, you’re a penguin.”
“And?” the penguin asked, cocking it’s head.
“Well, it’s just that,” Arthur paused, collecting his thoughts. “Penguins aren’t really known for their ability to speak.”
“Look, dude. Don’t worry about that right now, okay? It’s not important.”
“Okay.”
“I’m here to give you a gift.”
“Okay.”
“You have been chosen, Arthur Hanrahan.”
“Chosen?”
“That’s right. Arthur Hanrahan, come on down! You are the next contestant on the Price is Right!”
Arthur woke long enough to find the remote and turn off the television.
His last thought as slumber once more found him, was that he had to stop eating so much right before bed.
This comes from a story prompt from storydam.com which said: “In the spirit of the Wizard of Oz, write a piece in which your character gets whisked away to an alternate reality. Obviously be creative, but think outside the box: this can be a fictional piece or you can use a crazy dream that involved you. The weirder the better—remember, you aren’t in Kansas anymore!”
I didn’t necessarily follow the prompt 100%, but that’s just the way it has to be this week. I really struggled with time on this one, so I hate to write fast.
