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 Battle of the Waffles Fritz, Rhage. Phury and Murhder 11.21. 2012

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Fritzy
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Join date : 2011-12-12

PostSubject: Battle of the Waffles Fritz, Rhage. Phury and Murhder 11.21. 2012   Wed Jan 09, 2013 11:42 pm

Fritz
Fritz lifted the waffle maker’s lid and was rewarded with the golden brown sight of waffle perfection with a sweet savory smell to match. Using a silver fork he removed one waffle from each of the matching jumbo waffle makers and placed them on a fine china plate. Darius certainly was appreciative of fine things and Fritz was appreciative of Darius’s love of them.

He was refilling both machines when he heard footsteps and looked up to see Rhage slowly entering the kitchen. The male was grimy and sporting more than a few scrapes and bruises to his face and hands. Knowing better than to fuss over any obvious injuries unless he was asked directly for aid; Fritz hurried over with the plate of fresh waffles and sat them down before the battered sire. “Enjoy your meal, Sir. If you should need anything just let me know.”

Rhage didn’t answer or even look up, another sure sign to Fritz that he’d had an exceptionally rough night on patrol. Tisking mentally to himself he went back to his waffle making. Pondering all that these young males must sacrifice for the sake of their race. Fritz soon had a stack of four waffles prepared and moved to silently set them onto the table in front of Rhage, who grunted through a mouthful of food. Taking this acknowledgement as a thank you, Fritz beamed from the praise as he turned back to the gleaming machines.

Just as he refilled them both, he caught sight of Murhder’s hulking form entering the kitchen. Smiling brightly, he addressed the warrior directly. “Good morning Sir, I shall have food for you in a mere moment.”

Before he had even finished speaking, he watched opened mouthed, as Murhder sat down opposite Rhage and without a word pulled the plate of four waffles over to him, grabbed the top one with his bare hand stuffing his mouth full, as he reached across to apply syrup to the others.

Rhage didn’t move, make a sound, or acknowledge Murhder’s rude presence in any way. Turning away from the table Fritz heard a small metal on china tapping sound and spun back to see Rhage, face intent on his now empty plate… slowly tapping it with the end of his fork tongs. Mildly flustered now, Fritz quickly removed the two newest waffles and hurriedly took them over to add to Rhage’s plate. Again, no words were spoken, but Rhage began to eat as soon as the food was delivered.

Fritz caught sight of a small smirk on Murhder’s face in between heaping forkfuls of food. Before Murhder’s last bite was even chewed he mimicked Rhage’s tapping with the fork onto the china. Rushing back to the waffle makers Fritz wasted no time in refilling them and stacking the fresh hot waffles onto his serving plate. Murhder, without speaking a word or even looking up, continued the slow methodical tapping until waffles again filled his plate.

And so they continued…. Fritz churning out hot fluffy waffles until he heard the distinct tap-tap-tap of metal on china… then he’d refill the plate of whichever warrior had indicated the need for more food. No words were spoken between any of them, and as far as Fritz could tell not a glance had been spared between either; as the waffles continued to disappear, at a slow steady rate.

Fritz on the other hand was starting to sweat. He quickly mixed up another huge batch of batter and kept the steaming hot machines making waffles as fast as they could turn them out. Silently praying to the Scribe that no one else decide to join this cold war being fought at the dining table. No sooner had he allowed himself to finish that thought he saw Phury silently enter the kitchen through the rare entry and his heart fell.

Phury
As I made my way down the rear stairs my senses were over loaded with the wonderful smell of fresh waffles. I paused to take a deep breath in… man, Fritz could really make such a simple thing as a waffle into a genuine work of art.

When I entered the kitchen I noticed that Rhage and Murhder had already beaten me to the feast. No surprise there, you had to get up pretty early if you wanted to beat Rhage to any meal. What was a surprise was the frazzled state that Fritz appeared to be in. I couldn’t remember ever seeing the Doggen lose his cool, but it was clear that he was being stretched to the limit. What the fuck?

I leaned against the counter, watching in silent awe as the scene before me continued to unfold. Amazement slowly spreading across my features.

Fritz
Almost giddy with relief that Phury didn’t seem bent on joining into the action right this moment, Fritz continued to focus his efforts on the diners at hand. Making sure the syrup container was refilled, butter out and waffles delivered as soon as the incessant metal on china tapping could be heard, sounding to him like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Just as Fritz was beginning to worry that the waffle makers themselves might not survive the over use, Rhage made a sound of disgust, dropping his fork to the table with an echoing clang in the quiet of the large kitchen. Without a word, he shoved his plate away and stood to sulk out of the kitchen with no acknowledgement to anyone.

Fritz watched in surprise as Murhder silently reached over with his fork and pulled the half eaten waffle off Rhage’s now unused plate. He quickly stuffed it whole into his mouth and polished off the remaining short stack on his own plate. Smiling in supreme satisfaction, Murhder kicked back his chair and strode in triumph from the kitchen following the direction Rhage had gone.

Slumping slightly against the counter Fritz mopped the sweat from his brow with a dish towel.

Phury
I moved over to stand next to the spent Doggen and in a sympathetic voice asked almost gently, “How many did he eat?”

Fritz
Slowing shaking his head in complete amazement at Phury’s question. Fritz whispered, “Thirty-three… Murhder ate thirty-three.”

Fritz realized it was time he spoke to Darius. They were going to need a bigger staff. #Breakfast Is Not For Sissys

Rhage
With lips pulled back exposing my fangs...a low growl emits from deep within my chest. If I weren't so tired, I would have bit Murhder. Asshole took my waffles. With clenched fists, I punch open my door...kick off my boots...and face plant on my bed. Snoring loudly, lost in dreams of playing Wack-A-Mole, with Murhder's head.
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Battle of the Waffles Fritz, Rhage. Phury and Murhder 11.21. 2012
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