The alley appeared empty when I began walking through it. There was, however, a homeless man sleeping in an old washing machine box. I’d hoped to get out of the rain that came upon the city in an instant. As luck would have it, I found an awning to wait out the rain under. It looked to be the backdoor of a restaurant. The homeless man snored across the way.  Just as I was beginning to enjoy the pitter-patter of the rain I heard a creak of a large metal door behind me. Turning around, I saw a young man in an apron at the base of the open door. A line cook, I think,  sitting and watching me. I believe he was watching me… His stare was so blank and lifeless he might have been looking straight through me.

                There was a light coming from within the room behind him and as the door was ajar I saw a small shadow move across the far wall. I couldn’t see anything else.

                I nodded at the line cook, but got no response.

                After a moment of eyeing me, or something beyond me, quizzically, the line cook closed the door.

                I enjoyed the rain but noticed the clouds were getting darker, the thunder and lightning, closer.  Plus, I wanted to get home. Again I heard a loud creak, so I looked back towards the door which was once again ajar. The line cook sat once again at the bottom of the door, but there was an another man poking his head out just above the line cook. This man, a butcher if I had to guess by his bloody apron and the cleaver he held in his hand, had a scar across its left eye which seemed to be missing.

                In the light coming from within the room I saw a large shadow move across the far wall. I couldn’t see anything else.

                ‘Is it on the menu?’ the young line cook asked.

Together they disappeared behind the door which closed with a thunderous crack.

Mostly alone for another moment, I noticed the sky had grown very dark. The lightning struck very close and the noise of the storm muffled the loud snoring of the homeless man across the alley. I must have missed the sound of the metal door opening in the applause of thunder that followed a nearby flurry of lightning strikes. The smell of cooking potatoes and carrots carried through the air, which caught my attention. The light from the door shined across the alley.  Turning around I saw another man, this time the Sous-chef, looming a full head above the one-eyed butcher, poking his head out above the other two.

Licking his lips and looking in my direction the butcher asked, ‘Is it on the menu?’

‘I think so, yes. Let’s wait for the chef to come.’ the Sous-chef said. ‘He’ll know. Besides, the water still needs to boil and the oven not quite heated, yet. ‘

I couldn’t stay there. The rain still poured down.

To this day, I don’t know if ‘it’ was on the menu or even what ‘it’ was. The trash across the alley? The rats that fed on that trash? The man sleeping in the box? Me? I didn’t stick around for the Chef’s decision regardless. Instead, I shouted, ‘It stopped being served at breakfast’ and ran out into the rain and all the way home.