The Adventures Of The Misinterpreted Lackey (Part II)
Every sob story has a sorry ending. Every happy story has a sob beginning. But when you're talking to a young lad called Hibuddy Cornstarch, there's just no story.
A blank beginning.
Meet Hibuddy Cornstarch, again.
"The day is bright. Or is it... That is the question!," murmurs hibuddy to himself as he sits down with a bowl of soup in the cafeteria.
Dear reader,
You may be wondering what soup is it. Or why our beloved Hibuddy is in the cafeteria? Or why for the love of letters are we reading this paragraph in an out-of-context format? Well, you see, that's just how it is.
Let's wind back the scene a bit.
Hibuddy is seen approaching the counter.
"Soup, please." , he said casually to the waiter at the counter.
"What soup?", said the waiter.
"Plain soup." said the young hibuddy.
"Young lad. Have you noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
"I'm not the chef"
"But you are the waiter!"
"That is a misconception, a waiter waits, and a chef concocts. What he concocts you say? Magical ingredients which fill your belly with a dash of wizardry called a recipe!", said the waiter.
"Which brings me back to my point, I'm the waiter. I am waiting for somebody. My friend actually. My name is Tom. The main person in charge of this counter is not me. It's the chef. The chef cooks plus serves. This company is short-staffed as we speak."
Hibuddy fell silent. He took a step back. "Human Juicer... I really feel uneasy about this. I'll wait awhile." - he muttered to himself.
After the longest 15 minutes of his life, finally, the chef popped out of the little hole in the cafeteria. The hole from where trays slid back with food on top arranged lusciously on metallic platters.
The chef was tiny, with a giant hat on his head.
It was misspelled chaf, not chef.
Funny thing is, our dear chef's vocabulary wasn't so great. He came from Spain, grew up in the suburbs, thus his English wasn't quite, ahem, up-to-date.
"Finally! Mr. Chef, one soup, please. " - screeched Hibuddy.
"Identify yourself, mysterious lad! Where is your ID?" said the chef, scratching his eyebrows.
Hibuddy handed over his silver card.
"Hiboody Cornstatche, nice to meet you! My name is Lexington Gothenburg. Everybody here calls me Mr. Little. I am short but my hat is high, so is my cooking skills and my pride. Now, what soup do you want?" said Lex with a big, wide maniacal grin.
That little cook actually looked adorable since the hat contrasted his features.
"Plain soup," said Hibuddy.
"Okay."
Mr. Little waited with a queer stare without moving an inch from his spot or batting an eyelid. He stood like a statue in that same cross-armed pose whilst leaning against the wall.
Hibuddy shed a sweat. 30 seconds passed.
"Erm, do you want something? How long will my soup take?," asked Hibuddy a bit timidly.
"It will take nothing," said Mr. Little.
"Nothing? So it's free?"
"Well of course it's free, nothing is nothing after all!"
Perplexed by the complexity of the conversation, hibuddy burst forth with perhaps what is the most inquisitive question out of this extremely ordinary conversation.
"Am I getting soup?"
"Nope."
"But why not? I've identified myself!"
"That, you did, but still no."
"Why?" said Hibuddy with a cringed expression and squinted eyes.
"Because you want plain. Soup no plain! Only flavour and colour!," said Mr. Little with a tad glare.
"Oh... Okay, then put some vegetables in it! How about corn, peas, macaroni, and chicken leg in it?"
"You are an expensive lad. Fine. Your soup will be served in five minutes. Enjoy. And don't forget to pay your tab. It starts today!" said Mr. Little, disappearing like a shadow immediately into the kitchen brimming with the fumes of flavour.
The soup was served.
Hibuddy found an empty table near the far corners of the cafetaria. He sat down on a chair. The chair looked filmsy but was downright sturdy.
He stared at the bowl of soup. This is where his mind pondered.
Vegetable swirling away into the liquid concoction of this steamy bowl. Particulates of chicken leg circling along with all these vegetables. The crowd lulling the noises of the cafeteria with the sounds of clatter and laughter, slurps and smiles, whispers and whiles.
"This place is weird." Hibuddy thought to himself.
So much effort for a tiny bowl of soup!
Hibuddy's journey was just beginning. We have now taken a glimpse at his life. The day started with a job application nay. The second with soup. Now the third, unto the next part.
In case you've been wondering, did his day end?
No, not yet.
How did he reach the following predicament? What is happening?! Is this it?!
To get answers to your questions and quirks, stay tuned to find out next time!
-Continued in The Adventures Of The Misinterpreted Lackey, Part III
A blank beginning.
Meet Hibuddy Cornstarch, again.
"The day is bright. Or is it... That is the question!," murmurs hibuddy to himself as he sits down with a bowl of soup in the cafeteria.
Dear reader,
You may be wondering what soup is it. Or why our beloved Hibuddy is in the cafeteria? Or why for the love of letters are we reading this paragraph in an out-of-context format? Well, you see, that's just how it is.
Let's wind back the scene a bit.
Hibuddy is seen approaching the counter.
"Soup, please." , he said casually to the waiter at the counter.
"What soup?", said the waiter.
"Plain soup." said the young hibuddy.
"Young lad. Have you noticed?"
"Noticed what?"
"I'm not the chef"
"But you are the waiter!"
"That is a misconception, a waiter waits, and a chef concocts. What he concocts you say? Magical ingredients which fill your belly with a dash of wizardry called a recipe!", said the waiter.
"Which brings me back to my point, I'm the waiter. I am waiting for somebody. My friend actually. My name is Tom. The main person in charge of this counter is not me. It's the chef. The chef cooks plus serves. This company is short-staffed as we speak."
Hibuddy fell silent. He took a step back. "Human Juicer... I really feel uneasy about this. I'll wait awhile." - he muttered to himself.
After the longest 15 minutes of his life, finally, the chef popped out of the little hole in the cafeteria. The hole from where trays slid back with food on top arranged lusciously on metallic platters.
The chef was tiny, with a giant hat on his head.
It was misspelled chaf, not chef.
Funny thing is, our dear chef's vocabulary wasn't so great. He came from Spain, grew up in the suburbs, thus his English wasn't quite, ahem, up-to-date.
"Finally! Mr. Chef, one soup, please. " - screeched Hibuddy.
"Identify yourself, mysterious lad! Where is your ID?" said the chef, scratching his eyebrows.
Hibuddy handed over his silver card.
"Hiboody Cornstatche, nice to meet you! My name is Lexington Gothenburg. Everybody here calls me Mr. Little. I am short but my hat is high, so is my cooking skills and my pride. Now, what soup do you want?" said Lex with a big, wide maniacal grin.
That little cook actually looked adorable since the hat contrasted his features.
"Plain soup," said Hibuddy.
"Okay."
Mr. Little waited with a queer stare without moving an inch from his spot or batting an eyelid. He stood like a statue in that same cross-armed pose whilst leaning against the wall.
Hibuddy shed a sweat. 30 seconds passed.
"Erm, do you want something? How long will my soup take?," asked Hibuddy a bit timidly.
"It will take nothing," said Mr. Little.
"Nothing? So it's free?"
"Well of course it's free, nothing is nothing after all!"
Perplexed by the complexity of the conversation, hibuddy burst forth with perhaps what is the most inquisitive question out of this extremely ordinary conversation.
"Am I getting soup?"
"Nope."
"But why not? I've identified myself!"
"That, you did, but still no."
"Why?" said Hibuddy with a cringed expression and squinted eyes.
"Because you want plain. Soup no plain! Only flavour and colour!," said Mr. Little with a tad glare.
"Oh... Okay, then put some vegetables in it! How about corn, peas, macaroni, and chicken leg in it?"
"You are an expensive lad. Fine. Your soup will be served in five minutes. Enjoy. And don't forget to pay your tab. It starts today!" said Mr. Little, disappearing like a shadow immediately into the kitchen brimming with the fumes of flavour.
The soup was served.
Hibuddy found an empty table near the far corners of the cafetaria. He sat down on a chair. The chair looked filmsy but was downright sturdy.
He stared at the bowl of soup. This is where his mind pondered.
Vegetable swirling away into the liquid concoction of this steamy bowl. Particulates of chicken leg circling along with all these vegetables. The crowd lulling the noises of the cafeteria with the sounds of clatter and laughter, slurps and smiles, whispers and whiles.
"This place is weird." Hibuddy thought to himself.
So much effort for a tiny bowl of soup!
Hibuddy's journey was just beginning. We have now taken a glimpse at his life. The day started with a job application nay. The second with soup. Now the third, unto the next part.
In case you've been wondering, did his day end?
No, not yet.
How did he reach the following predicament? What is happening?! Is this it?!
To get answers to your questions and quirks, stay tuned to find out next time!
-Continued in The Adventures Of The Misinterpreted Lackey, Part III
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