Culinary Class

Kemi

Well-Known Member
Inactive
Feb 28, 2009
104
Fallon stood at his station close to the dish power washing thing. The teacher was walking around inspecting that the upperclassmen had gotten the right stuff for the underclassmen. After finishing up with the last person in the row he took a metal box from the metal shelf behind him. He put it on the wooden table that was long and went out to be side by side, end wise, with another table a bit higher and made out of metal.

Each student had a cutting board and Cheif Bert started to show and explain how to hold and cut up the vegetables they were given correctly. A carrot, onion, and a potatoe. Peal then cut the carrot into a square shape and then cut it along it's bottom to top. The potatoe had to be pealed as well and was probably the most simplest to cut up, just cut it up without screwing up and cutting yourself. The onion seemed most complicated, use your hands to peal off the first layer then cut it in half. Cut along the lines of the onion so that it wouldn't fall apart and then hold it still and cut it along it's side now into small pieces. Then just repeat for the other half.

Fallon looked over his three vegetables and decided it couldn't be that hard and went to start with the potatoe first. Picking up the peal he started to take the skin off of it. Ok, that was easy for starters. He looked at the knife and frowned. "Is it really smart to give students knives like this?" He muttered to himself as he picked it up. What was the worst that could happen? He thought as he started to cut the potatoe.

Ok, that wasn't right. Was the potatoe bleeding? Oh god no! He was! "Ow! Crap! Damn it! This hurts!" He said taking his hand and looking that he cut the tip of his ring finger off. He saw that he had messed up already, he was less than halfway down with cutting it too. "Why me!?" He yelled to himself, most others people looked and laughed, he saw at least one person freaked out by the blood, few looked concern and then Cheif Bert was unfortunately out of the room at the time.
 

Sir

Well-Known Member
Inactive
Mar 9, 2009
140
Galen had learned long ago that acting confident was the best thing he could possibly do for himself. He'd accepted years ago that a 6'3, white-haired, winged teenager would always attract attention, regardless of whether or not he slumped his shoulders and kept his head down. And if he couldn't blend in with the crowd, he'd decided, he might as well stick out with style. He found that when he walked around with shoulders squared, looking self-assured and dauntless, it was rare for someone to dare to bother him. It was when he lost his air of superiority or looked anything less then invincible that people pounced, some mocking him, trying to start a fight, others bombarding him with foolish questions.

Today, however, it was more difficult than usual not to hunch his shoulders in embarrassment and try to make himself invisible. It was hard to keep your dignity when you were chopping up vegetables - with underclassmen, no less - and he had a fair idea of how ridiculous he looked, a mound of potatoes before him, surgical gloves donned so he didn't heal the onions as he chopped. But he knew as well that it was even more important then ever to appear untouchable, and he peeled his potatoes with quiet dignity, carefully ignoring the snickering and stares of the students around him.

He was almost finished with the last potato when a yelp of pain sounded though the classroom, and the tiny boy a few feet away began yelling and staring at his hand in horror. Blood oozed from a deep gash in his finger, and Galen could see the students around him beginning to laugh. A few people looked concerned, but no one seemed to want to do anything about it. He hesitated for a few seconds, trying to decide if it was worth it to get involved, hoping another healer would step up instead. But no one did, and he finally peeled off his gloves and walked over to where the boy was standing, waving his hand about in pain. He reached over and picked up the tiny slice of finger from the boy's cutting board, holding it between thumb and forefinger, and held out his other hand expectantly for the boy's injured digit. "Come on, let me see," he said, waving the severed fingertip impatiently. "I'm a healer, alright?"
 
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