Vasilika Vanya Marinkovic Secret World Entertainment ©
The Blakefields were out and about the town. They had done some shopping at the local mall and were now scoping out the nearby area for a bite to eat. Christopher Blakefield was the twelve year old son and his stomach was rumbling for grease and more.
“Oh! Hey there’s Mc Friers! Pull in through the drive-through. I’m gonna order me some extra large Frier fries, a two liter coke, a triple Friers cheese burger-hold the veggies and an apple pie-oh and a hot fudge Sunday, extra fudge and nuts!”
Mrs. Blakefield shook her head at her boy, shame on him.
“I don’t think so. It’s a hot day and we don’t need all that grease. Tell you what: There’s a great soup and salad station in that deli in the pine grove mini-mall. That’s where we’re going.”
“Ah, hell!” groaned Christopher.
“Watch your mouth” advised Mom and at this point Mr. Blakefield was automatically obligated to step in.
“Now son, I don’t need to tell you about all those calories and how all those fried items will clog up your arteries.”
“I’m not old. I don’t have to worry about that sh-
Mr. Blakefield rounded the corner violently, cutting off his son’s swear-word.
“Tell you what. When you start your own business and make your own money, you can eat whatever you want!”
Two weeks later, Mr. Blakefield awoke on a Saturday nostrils filled with the fumes of delectable fried foods and the sounds of automobile engines, sounding rather close to home. Throwing a bathrobe on, he proceeded to descend the stairs into the living room, which also gave way and view of the sizeable kitchen.
For a moment, Mr. Blakefield wondered if he was still half asleep; Carefully continuing his descent, he saw that Christopher was handing a couple of grease laden bags of items to a motorist through the kitchen window. And several “patrons” dined in the kitchen at the dining room table and two make-shift tables, one being the coffee table, having been moved from the living room to the kitchen and the other being a large toy kitchen oven, the Blakefields had kept from when Christopher was very young.
Between vehicles arriving to the window, Christopher casually munched at stores of French fries piled in a greasy bin. Meanwhile burgers sizzled in oil behind him. His shirt was covered in grease. Then he noticed Dad.
“Isn’t this great Dad? I’m calling it the Grease Stop.”
“What the F-
“Dad, I’ve already made five hundred and eighty one dollars and I’ve only been open a few hours-
Mr. Blakefield threw on an apron and scoured the shelves, getting other friable food out, along with sweets. He tossed a carton of cookies in a deep fryer, then brought a large bowl to the diners sitting at the dining table.
“Tell you what, if you guys can fill this bowl up with the neighbor’s cherries, we’ll throw in a free deep fried cookie delight and large cherry coke!”
The customers sprinted off with the bowl, excited.
“That’s the spirit dad”, and Christopher turned back to the window, bagging up greasy fries, while flipping burgers. The driver counted a row of bills
Two months later, Mrs. Blakefield walked down the steps and into the kitchen. Shaking her head, she stared disapprovingly at her son and husband. Both had gained almost fifty pounds apiece. The living room was filled to capacity with fat greasy diners, four of them crammed into the couch watching television. Children ran around, making a game out of skidding through the slippery grease through the kitchen floor.
THE END FOR NOW