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Friday, August 9, 2013


Things are much quieter here at Kitchens and More since last week. This past Saturday was the day the Ogre fell. The Deep Fried Ogre. More legend than reality. More myth than truth. But real. Make no mistake, the Deep Fried Ogre was real. I met him. Saw him. Felt the rumble of the Earth when the Ogre roared. Watched his prey tremble when confronted with his rumpled awfulness. I remember once, when I was younger and more daring, how I tracked The Deep Fried Ogre from his fast food wrapper stuffed backroom lair to his territorial walk about resting spot near the candy display at the side exit. I remember following the trail of peon faces who were still attempting to look busy as the Ogre passed to the Cardboard Mountain of unfinished stock in the Electronics Department. I caught a quick glimpse of the Nasty Brute when he paused to sniff the air. Legend states that with one snort from his mighty nostrils The Ogre could sniff out responsibility on the air and immediately head in the other direction. Sometimes, on a Sunday morning, I would come in early for the "signing" ritual [the signing ritual dates back to the Dawn of Ogrehood and is now primarily used to irritate humans but had onced been a rather ativistic coming of age/mating right of passage]. The Deep Fried Ogre would drunkenly stumble around the sales floor changing the prices on dozens and dozens of products while loud Heavy Metal blared from cheap speakers and Ol' Deep Fried growled amiably. Then when the store opened for business all Hell would break loose as the register price was of course utterly different from the sign on the product. And oh how Ol' Deep Fried would laugh. The terrible laugh of the mortally wounded-but still a laugh. Then without warning THEY took The Deep Fried Ogre to conundrum corner and waved torches in his face and screamed at his hairy back and taunted his soul with broken promises of nothing and let the black abyss swallow all hope of a Technicolor Future while the Pain Demons swam free... OK. Sorry. A little too much O.S. (ogre shit). Suffice to say the Deep Fried Ogre is gone and the one called Mad Ox will never put another chain saw away.

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