TAC Boot Camp

  ‘Oh, divine goddess… Thou art worthy to be worshiped and thy beauty is more wondrous and more dazzling than anything on this Earth. Oh divine, one, I upholdth these eggs before thee and I pray that thou wilst bless them and make them nutritious and tasty…’

  Tucker Pyles paused from his prayer, but kept his eyes closed. To open them during a prayer to the goddess would be disrespectful and he would never allow himself such a liberty.

  He sniffed.

  A burning smell came to his nostrils, but he was determined to finish his prayer before he allowed himself vision.

  ‘Allow these frying eggs to bringth glory to thee, divine goddess. That thou wilst in turn bringth glory to thy servant…’ He loved using the archaic English. It made his prayers sound much more pious than normal English. No doubt the goddess would be more likely to hear him and if anyone else happened to overhear, they would think he was one super-spiritual dude. ‘Yea, I am thy servant and I humbly wish to…’

  ‘Pyles!’ An angry voice interrupted his worship. ‘You’re burning the bloody eggs!’

  Tucker forced his eyelids open and the source of the burning smell immediately became apparent. The eggs on the grill were going black and smoke rose from them.

  ‘Oh, shit!’ Tucker quickly attempted to flip them over with the fish slice, but they were caked to the grill.

  ‘Damn it, Pyles!’ The head cook at the pub Tucker worked, bowled over to him and shoved him out of the way. He was quite a burly guy, but it took some effort on his part, as Tucker was a big guy for a 16-year-old. Tucker liked to think of it as extra flabby muscle, even though most people called it blubber. ‘Can’t you do anything right? All you had to do was fry a few eggs, but you couldn’t even bloody well do that!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Tom!’ Tucker stood back, his heart breaking as Tom scraped black egg off the grill. ‘I just…’

  ‘Standing around here, muttering to yourself! Why weren’t you bloody paying attention? I’ve got people waiting for their food, now this is just gonna hold things up!’

  ‘Sorry,’ whimpered Tucker.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, just let me handle this. You get over there and mind those chips. Don’t let them burn!’

  ‘Ubbaaaaaaa.’ Tucker moved over to the oil vats where a couple of containers of chips bubbled away in the fat. He considered praying another blessing, but Tom regularly glanced his way. Tucker sighed and gave both containers a shuffle.

  His job at the local tavern should have been more fun than this. At least he was getting to do some cooking now, but most of his time was spent doing dishes and cleaning the bar and toilets. What he really wanted to do - the goddess willing - was serve cocktails. He could just imagine doing flair routines, juggling glasses and bottles and entertaining the customers. It was just a pity there was little call for cocktails in a country pub. It was mainly beer and wine. Besides, he was too young. Maybe in a couple of years he’d move up in the world. That was if he ever got through school, which was very tough going these days.

  It was the Goddess that made the job tolerable though. When the going got tedious, all he had to do was focus his thoughts on her and she would make him feel good. ‘Praise the Goddess,’ he’d tell himself. And he’d picture her in his mind, so beautiful with her long dark spiral hair and voluptuous figure.

  He lifted up one of the containers to give the chips a good jiggle. He jiggled it a little too hard and fat splattered onto his hand. He let out a yelp and released the handle. The container tipped over and landed upside down in the fat, releasing the chips out into the boiling liquid.

  ‘What the hell…’ Tom glared over. ‘Oh, for bloody hell’s sake! Your incompetent moron! Ah, damn it, get the hell out of here, I’ll do this myself. Go and clean some glasses!’

  ‘UuBBAA!’

  ‘Go!’

  Tucker trundled sadly out of the cooking area, took one last forlorn glance back and headed towards the sinks. It seemed that the Goddess had not appreciated his fine prayers earlier and was not blessing him as he’d hoped. But he couldn’t be angry with the Goddess. How could anyone be angry at such a glorious being? Obviously, his faith had not been strong enough or he had not prayed piously enough. Or perhaps the Goddess had greater things in store for him?

  A chuckle came from the staff’s lounge area. ‘Hard luck, Tucker. Looks like you’re just not cut out for cooking.’ The part-time bartender, Rod Williams leaned back on an old tatty couch, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  He was an athletic type of guy, of around 19 or 20 years old. He had short blonde hair and a sardonic smile. Tucker was surprised at his friendly tone, because he’d treated him with contempt ever since Tucker started working there. Before working at the tavern, Tucker had only known him before as a troublemaker and the brother of Lilla Williams, who was the head girl at school the previous year. Unlike Lilla, he wasn’t that smart and had even been in trouble with the local police when he turned up at a school dance, even though he was no longer a student. He probably never would have gotten the job there at the pub if he hadn’t been friends of the bar owner, Rita.

  ‘I’d do fine if it wasn’t for Tom looking over my shoulder every few minutes,’ Tucker grumbled, bitter thoughts of the kitchen chef seeping into his mind.

  Sarcasm entered Rod’s voice, ‘Man, it’s not like your job was difficult or anything. Hell, I’m surprised you haven’t been sampling everything.’

  Tucker’s eyes narrowed, wondering if Rod had been watching him too. ‘What are you talking about?’

  A guffaw burst from Rod’s mouth. ‘I should have known! You have been sampling the food, haven’t you? Munching a few chips here and there… Wolfing down a rasher of bacon when Tom turns his head, huh?’

  ‘I have not!’

  Rod laughed some more. ‘Yeah, whatever.’ He took a mouthful of coffee, a smirk on his face.

  Tucker tried to hide his embarrassment, by turning around and turning on the hot tap to the sink. It had not been that long ago when he had made a declaration that he was going to eat less and become a lot more dynamic, personality wise. He was going to be the lady killer and the bully battler, but it hadn’t lasted long. After a week or two he was back to his old ways, eating every tasty morsel he could get his hands on. Working in a pub where food was being cooked provided him with way too many temptations.

  He squirted in some dishwashing liquid. He jumped when Rod stepped up beside him.

  ‘Don’t go smashing anymore glasses now, Pyles. Rita’s already had to buy another set.’

  ‘I won’t smash any glasses! Shouldn’t you be in the bar?’

  ‘I’m on a break.’

  Tucker immersed a glass in the hot, bubbly water and began to scrub it with a brush. He lifted the glass up to inspect it for grime.

  ‘DON’T DROP THAT!’ Rod shouted in his ear.

  Tucker lurched forward and the glass slipped from his fingers. It bounced off the edge of the sink and onto the floor where it shattered into tiny pieces. ‘UUuuBBAAA! Why did you yell in my ear like that?’

  Rod chuckled as he placed his empty cup with the other dirty dishes. ‘I told you not to drop it, Tucker.’

  ‘You made me!’

  ‘Hey, I’m not the clumsy moron who poured too much detergent into the sink.’

  ‘Urrrrrrrbbarrrrrrrr!’

  Rod continued to chuckle for a few seconds and when he finally stopped, the smile remained on his face. ‘Hey, don’t feel bad about it, Tucker. Keep working hard and you’ll make it to the bar one day.’

  Tucker perked up at the thought. ‘You reckon?’

  ‘Yeah, you’ll be in there pouring beers just like me. Hey, maybe I’ll teach you the tricks of the trade.’

  ‘You will?’ Tucker’s heart leapt.

  ‘Yeah! You’ll have all the women lining up at your bar just dying to be served by you.’ Another laugh escaped his lips. ‘Yep, I’ll teach you a few tricks, alright.’

  ‘Gee… thanks.’ Tucker beamed.

  Rod c
huckled some more and returned to the bar.

  Tucker arrived home later that evening, feeling worn out. One thing he was grateful for; that being a weeknight, nobody had got drunk enough to throw up all over the toilet floors. It meant no cleaning up fowl smelling puke.

  He sighed as he thought back to his previous jobs. Sometimes he wished he was back cleaning in the café or the gym. At least not so many people got sick there. Although apparently illnesses had increased after he had started working there, but he had no idea why.

  Another good thing about this night was his mother was already in bed. Some nights she’d be up demanding him to get her some supper as soon as he got through the door.

  ‘You’re a cook now, Tucker! It should be no trouble for you to whip me up a feed before you go to bed.’

  He really wished he hadn’t bragged that Rita had made him the official chef at the bar. It meant he had to continually prove his cooking skills, or lack thereof, at home. He realised now that if he was home after school, rather than working at the tavern, she’d get him to cook dinner too. Cooking was about the only job his mother ever did, so Tucker definitely didn’t want to be lumbered with that responsibility as well. It was bad enough that a large percentage of his wages went to pay board, which usually benefited her, rather than him.

  He shuddered at how difficult it would be next week, having to get up at 6 am each morning to be at school by 7am. Now that would be hellacious, especially if Mr Harris had anything to do with it. He’d really have to draw strength from the Goddess for that.

  In his bedroom, he kneeled down at his bedroom window, where he had a small table, set with a tablecloth and a framed photograph standing between two candles.

  His shrine to the Goddess.

  He lit the two candles and gazed at the photograph. He could stare at that photograph all day. It was the one time he allowed himself to keep his eyes open as he prayed.

  He studied every curve of her face. Her rounded chin, delicate cheek bones, full lips, bright sapphire blue eyes and flawless skin. She was truly divine.

  ‘Oh goddess, Vanessa… the daughter of Aphrodite… sent down to earth in human form with the ability to maketh any man fall in love with thee just by laying eyes on thee. Yea, give me a sign, goddess, something to tell me what purpose thou hast for me on this earth. I beseech thee, there must be something more than cleaning up glasses and puke. Speak to me, oh goddess. I am thy loyal and humble servant and I listeneth.’

  He fixed his eyes on the photograph, wishing he could see her right now, but he would have to wait. At least until he got to school tomorrow where he could gaze at her from across the classroom.

  Then something entered his mind, like a hand reaching in to steal the last piece of chocolate cake before he could.

  The Goddess had made a command.

  Tucker widened his eyes as he stared at the photograph. ‘My goddess… Yea, I can heareth thee. I know what I must doest. I must act as thy emissary on Earth. Teach others of thy divinity. Maketh them seeth the truth! Yea, I shall create thy ministry here on Earth for thee. Thy religion. And I shall call it… Nessanism!’