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Her Name Was Fyline Joy

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"Don't just stand there you stupid cunt! Move your fucking arse," I screamed from behind the counter.

"Yes, Chef" came the only response from the teary-eyed girl, who left in a hurry.

It was during lunch service and the kitchen was as busy as it usually was.

There was no time to stop and stare, no time to even think.

For three hours you find yourself in somewhat of a frenzy.

Hearts racing, heads pounding, people screaming and waiters falling.

The girl returned to the kitchen to collect her order, slowly pacing toward the counter,

As if once again she lost her beat to our rhythm.

"OY! What the fuck are you sleeping for? Get the fucking food out, you lazy bitch," I yelled at her.

As lunch came to an end,
 
I was reminded of my ugliness of my words,

As I saw this girl once more,

Still looking like someone who just got out of bed.

I looked at her and felt a bit bad,

So I called her over and then she got mad.

Now she was pissed because she couldn't do a thing.

Little did we know about Cupid's crazy plot.

This crazy lady cursed me six times on the spot.

Then she taught me what I know today,

About love and patience,

And even mourned when I went astray.

Her name was Fyline Joy
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Copyright © Copyright Information 2013, July (sect.52/act.06)

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