Fun with words and words for fun

Monthly Archives: December 2017

For all my readers and my family and friends:



So that’s it for this year. Gonna take another little break here.

Of course Bill Wynn will return.

Look for the original Kitchen Stories to appear before the summer.

Look for The Ferris Wheel, a brand new short story, to appear in installments on the blog beginning right after the New Year break.

Pick up a copy of my published works here: Books by Peter Weiss. Don’t be shy about it. Don’t be hesitant. Don’t put it off. You know, support your unknown writer!

Meanwhile, to all my friends and family, and to all my readers and followers:




kitchen-4In the morning Mary was shy-eyed. She flushed red over her chocolate when she and Bill were face to face downstairs changing into their uniforms. Bea had not come down yet. She made a pot of coffee and sat on her stool. She smoked a cigarette and read the racing pages just like she always did but usually after she’d changed clothes.

Bill was tired. Just plain feeling lazy. He was looking forward to some time off, even if only a couple of days. This was his first time off since he’d started at Steakhouse East. He wasn’t complaining. He was happy to have a job, a trade, money in the bank now, even a good car. He worked and worked and worked. The social life there, being in demand, was something he had never experienced before, and like the proverbial kid in the candy shop, he was eating all the candy.

Mary was different. He sensed her mood change, saw her blush, saw her continually looking away from him, even down at her feet. Finally, when he had put on the checkered pants and the white kitchen shirt, even though he hadn’t buttoned the shirt yet, he took Mary’s hand and stopped her where she was at. She had her dress on, but open, and she was sitting on the folding chair they kept nearby putting on and tying her work shoes.

“The turkeys are in the meat room,” he said. “And what’s up with you?”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with me.”

“Didn’t ask that. I asked what’s up with you?”


Bill bent over her and kissed her. As he did so, he reached inside the open dress and fondled her bosom. He kissed her again, stood up straight and looked down at her.

“You ain’t right,” he said. “So whatever it is, let’s get it out in the open.”

Mary finished tying her shoes then stood up and began buttoning Bill’s shirt. “I’m a little embarrassed about last night,” she said shyly, still not looking him in the eyes. When she finished his shirt, she started on her dress, but Bill stopped her and picked up where she left off.

“No need to be. It was cute, kind of.”

“I never did anything like that before.”

“So what?”

“What you mean so what?”

“You have fun? Did you finish playing with yourself?”

“Yes and yes. But it just made me horny.”

“Come on, we’ll get the work started and then we’ll come back down and make some sweet love, some soft, velvet love. We’ll scrub away that horny feeling.”

“Why you got to be so pretty?” Mary asked.

Bill was shocked and looked at Mary. No one had ever said he was pretty before. No one had ever said he was handsome. Even after he’d grown his hair long, lost more than sixty pounds and gotten really skinny, he was still not desirable, not wanted, so to speak. But then he was a broiler cook, in a power position, and all of a sudden…

Mary could see he was taken aback and was surprised. “What? You never been told you were pretty?”

“Only by the prison guards who wanted to set me up for trouble.”

“You poor baby. I think you’re beautiful.”

Bill could have cried, he was so touched. He was shocked and touched and even embarrassed. His emotional state did not know how to accept such a compliment and he wanted to bolt. But Mary began to stroke his cheek. Her hand ran over his cheek and her fingers went to his lips. She ran her pointer around his lips until finally he kissed it, then sucked it gently.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Why not?” Bill asked.

“It makes me hot.”

Having discovered a means to move away from a difficult spot, Bill sucked more to make Mary the focus. She allowed him to suck her finger and she finally closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” she said when they were ready to start upstairs.

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kitchen-4Marie went downstairs first. She hurried into the ladies room and did her face again, this time in a big mirror where she could see clearly. She was excited in many different ways and she was happy too.

Bill peeked out the dining room door and had the waitress bring him another beer. He walked down the stairs slowly and when he turned into the hall Marie was waiting for him.

“Let’s smoke a joint first,” she said.

Bill stopped at his locker and got a joint. They didn’t go into the deep freeze. Odds were very good Tommy would not come downstairs until the morning, so they locked themselves in the ladies room where they sat leisurely and smoked.

“You really wanna do this?” Bill asked.

Marie looked at Bill. “Why?  You don’t?”

“I don’t want any hassles.”

“Won’t be no hassles.”

They were sitting on the counter. Bill was sitting next to her, almost on the sink. He reached a hand to her skinny thigh and stroked it over her dress.

“Let’s just get changed and go home,” he suggested.

“Let’s not and say we did.”

“Why? Why me?”

“I been waiting patiently. I know Henry Lee told you he don’t mind. I want it, that’s why. I want to be with a white man before I die. You might be my only chance. I think I told you this once already, so let’s get this done.” She reached over to feel him. “I can see you want it. So what’s the problem?”

Bill slipped himself off the counter and stood before her. “No problem,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. He leaned in and pulled her toward him as she sat on the counter. He kissed her, a long, hard, deep kiss, his tongue probing her lips and inside her mouth until it found her tongue and their tongues began to dance. “Ain’t nothing different but the outside color,” Bill whispered as they kissed.

“Make me cry with pleasure, white boy,” Marie said.


Bill smoked a cigarette afterward, while they changed into their civvies. It was getting late. He was tired and he wanted to go home. He knew he would find his fiancé asleep. He knew she had classes in the morning and that when he got home from work, whatever time that was, they would head off to Cleveland to spend the holiday at her parents’ house. That meant they would be driving at night and would get there in the middle of night, maybe between three and four in the morning. The dog would bark. They’d have to find their ways to separate bedrooms since they weren’t married yet. It would be a big hassle. He decided, standing there, smoking a cigarette with Marie, that he would petition his fiancé to leave the following morning instead of in the night.

“So?” he asked Marie.

“So what?”

“So? Any different?”

“You want the truth?”


“You smell different from anyone I’ve ever had. Your habits are different. I like the way you kiss, the way you lick. I like the way you feel.”

“It’s just the idea of different.”

“Well I’ll certainly take a second helping.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you will.”


“Well what?”

“How was I?”

Bill was tying his shoes now. He was dressed except he hadn’t buttoned his shirt yet. Marie was stepping into her shoes, sneakers, and as she bent over to tie them, Bill took a nice feel of her. But he didn’t answer. He just finished tying his shoes.

“Tell me,” Marie said.



“You tried too hard.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means if we ever do this again, relax next time.”

“I was relaxed.”

“You were too busy in your head. Next time I’ll give you some Quaaludes.”

“So I get a next time?”

“Your call, baby.”

“You wanna see my call?” Marie pulled Bill so he was facing her and slid softly to her knees.

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kitchen-4Bill’s hands were “shmootzie” from the ground meat. Marie handed him the beer bottle and took it back after he drank. She put it on the counter then went over to the mirror and checked her makeup. As she did so, Bill walked up behind her and pressed himself against her. She pushed back at him and rocked a bit. They stood this way a long moment until they heard footsteps on the stairs. Bill knew immediately it was Paul, the ADHD kid, who always flew down the stairs. Bill also knew he’d be followed by the rest of the dishwashers, so he separated from Marie and went back to his work.

When he’d sorted out and put all the meat from the tray into the pan, he washed his hands. That done, he went to the deep freeze. He grabbed a case of turkeys and lugged it out by dragging it along the floor. He opened the case and inside were four big, frozen birds. He went back to the deep freeze and grabbed one more turkey from a case he opened. He carried it out and set it on the table.

Marie was sitting now where Mary always sat, up on the stainless steel counter. She had, unlike Mary, put her feet up on the curled lip of the counter and spread her legs wide, something she could do because she was young and skinny like a speed-freak.

“Come kiss me,” she said. She held the bourbon bottle as an incentive.

“We need to go back upstairs.”

“Take a drink and kiss me first.”

Bill walked over to her. As he did so, she slid her dress up her thighs.

First thing, Bill took a drink. Then he put his freezing hand on her thigh causing her to jump a bit. Then he kissed where he’d touched and licked her gently. He kissed and licked upward until he felt he’d teased her enough, then he gave her one kiss right on target.

“Now I have to carry that meat upstairs and see what’s going on.”

He helped Marie off the counter, put the bottle back in its drawer and covered it with kitchen towels. Walking playfully behind Marie, he reached up her dress and kept his hand there kneading her buttocks as they walked.

Just as they started on the stairs, Marie on the third stair, Bill still at the bottom, Marie said, “What if I told you to kiss my ass?” She bent forward for him.

Bill pulled on her skirt and stopped her like he was pulling on a horse’s reins. “Like this?” He lifted the dress and  planted a big kiss on each of her butt cheeks. Then he took a long and carefully placed feel of her, ending it with a soft pinch-like caress.

“That’s a good start.”

Bill laughed, slapped her once on her bare skin and followed her up the stairs. That’s when he remembered he had left the pan of meat down in the meat room.

“Forgot the meat, huh stupid?” Marie chided him then laughed. “I knew it,” she said. “I didn’t say nothing cause I liked what you were doing.”

“I gotta go back down.”

“I’m gonna close my station up.”

When Bill came up, this time with the meat, Marie was sitting on her stool. She was all finished. Bill took the pan of meat into Mary’s walk-in. Then he went down the back stoves. He made sure everything was off and all the ovens were empty. That done, he walked around to the line.

The van driver had arrived and was picking up the dish washers. Bill watched them head out the back door. As that was happening, the closing waitress came in and told him that Tommy said he could close it up. Happily, Bill went down the line shutting off everything. He went back down the line toward the door to downstairs, double-checked that everything was off.  The last thing he did was reach up under the ceiling hood and switch off the exhaust fans.

“Listen to that,” he said to Marie. What Bill heard was the sound of quiet.

Rose’s Story:    Pick up a copy today!


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For all my readers and my family and friends:

I’m gonna take a little holiday break, just a few days.  I do expect to post some things next week, probably mid-week. In the meantime, I hope you had a great Hanukkah, and we at my house wish you a joyous holiday season. May all the best and all you wish for come to you.


Thanks for following the blog. I  hope you enjoy the writing! Many neat things are planned for next year and a new novel is in progress. As a special treat, I’ll be posting a brand new short story, The Ferris Wheel, right after the new year. It will be in installments since it is too long for one posting. So keep a look out! And if you haven’t already, pick up a copy of  my published works here

Books by Peter Weiss

Meantime, hug your loved ones and cherish their presence.

Peter Weiss and Family

kitchen-4Bill busied himself with work, cooking the waitresses’ food, cooking hamburgers for the dish washers, breaking down the steam table as he did so. He went through his closing-cleaning routine quickly and energetically all the while thinking he should not have acted out on the sudden impulse. So he launched into his internal dialogue, the conflicting feelings, finally coming to an existential decision, as he generally did in situations like this, to a what-the-hell moment where he reasoned that she wanted it, Henry Lee wanted it, Mary had started it, teasing him as she did, and in the long run it didn’t mean squat in the scope of things.

The decision made, he started wondering what she was thinking, what she would want for him to do to her. He was thinking what he wanted her to do for him. Thinking these thoughts took his mind off his work and being unfocused, flipping a hamburger he burned his arm.

“Goddamn it,” he said aloud. The burger was for Bebe, medium rare. He went to the freezer and got an order of fries which he set into a fryer basket. He had no setups ready and had to cut a tomato and a pickle. He stepped over by Marie, took a nice piece of iceberg, a tomato and a pickle from her walk-in.

“You could have asked,” she said. “You could ask for just about anything.”

Bill nicked his finger cutting the tomato. This drew another “goddamn” and a “shit” too. Angry at himself, he dropped the fries too hard and splashed oil on his checkered work pants. Only by luck did he not burn himself.

He burned the first bun, but finally managed to get the plate ready and up under the warmer lights. He tapped the bell. A moment later, Lexi, who had eaten a steak, came in in her street clothes.

“I’m out of here,” she said. “See you tomorrow, sweetie.” She blew him a kiss as she picked up the burger plate. A moment later, one of the new waitresses came in with a beer for Bill. She told Bill the bar was full and Tommy asked that he hang around while they see if any late orders came in. Bill said he was going downstairs in a few, to get him if she needed him.

He finished up everything he could upstairs. He was conscious of threes as he worked. He had nicked himself, burned himself and wondered what the three would be. Jim was hanging around the knives again, eyeballing him and the beer. Marie was happening–maybe that was it.

The last thing he did was put away the steam table leftovers. He had already put the foods into clean containers and covered them with film, leaving a corner open on each. Since they were still warm, he made the open parts smaller and stored them that way.

“I’m going downstairs,” he told Marie. “I’ve got some things to do for tomorrow.”

Marie didn’t say anything. She watched him go out of the kitchen then went to her carry purse where she took her lipstick and powder. Looking in the glass of the reach-in box, she fixed her face the way she wanted it. Then she stepped around behind the counter of her station and when she was sure no one was looking, she quickly stepped out of her underwear. She tucked her panties into her dress pocket and quietly unbuttoned the top two buttons of the dress. Ready, she stepped through the line on her way downstairs. She stopped to pick up the beer Bill had left there, took a sip, then carried the bottle with her.

She found Bill in the meat room. She knew he would be there. He was busy fixing the meat for the meat loaf, taking the chopped beef from one tray and putting it into a pan which he would carry upstairs and store in the walk-in there for Mary for the morning. The first thing Marie did was take a sip of bourbon.

Rose’s Story:    Pick up a copy today!


 Purchase The Ghost Writer: Rose’s Story here

shoes 1shoes 2

So, are you maybe someone who supported Trump? Maybe you didn’t put a bumper sticker on your car because you didn’t want it to get keyed or have a window broken. You didn’t wear that Make America Great Again hat you bought because you didn’t want to have a fight in the street, because you determined that it wasn’t worth it. Maybe you just quietly support the police and the military, oppose illegal immigration, favor lower taxes and actually believe American citizens should come first and people who can should actually work for a living.

Then probably you wear the shoes that walk in the category of those who don’t believe the mainstream media is giving the American people the truth.

Maybe, actually, you are one of the above people and you moved to a new state and didn’t register as a Republican because you didn’t want to send an “audit me” red flag to Lois Lerner’s IRS. Then maybe you’re thinking: Wow, is this America?

So maybe you are someone who supported Obama’s Hillary and actually believe both of them walk on water. You didn’t believe that Eric Holder was in Contempt of Congress and it was okay he got away with it. You believe that there are like sixty-something genders and that of all the problems we face in the world, climate change is the top one of them. You believe that a woman should be elected simply because she is a woman, that her past actions destroying women her husband sexually abused is okay. You believe that she didn’t lie about Benghazi, didn’t destroy evidence in the email “situation,” that the FBI didn’t prevent her from being indicted and that the meeting her husband had on the tarmac with Loretta Lynch, which was never supposed to have been brought to public light, was really about golf and grandchildren. Who doesn’t believe in golf and grandchildren?

Further, you believe that all the money raised for her Clinton Foundation was totally free and clear of her being Secretary of State, that it is okay for a woman who champions all minorities, but especially women, to accept all the money the foundation took from countries and people who support Sharia Law and practice keeping women as beneath second-class citizens, that there should be no borders and not following the law is okay.

Then probably you wear the shoes that walk in the category of those who believe the mainstream media is giving the American people the truth, that Fox News Network (FNN) is way out there, off the hook and drinking the cool aid.

Remember the rules of research, which both sides, Elephants and Donkeys, seem to have forgotten: that in order to get toward truth one must begin with an honest hypothesis and examine all roads to it. Where the roads begin to converge and head in the same direction, no matter which direction that is, that is the road toward the truth.

So which shoes do you wear?

Do you believe the hypocrisy of either the right or the left?

Do you actually believe that considering American citizens and America first is really a fascist idea? Do you really believe that Trump is Hitler because right-wing people support him?

Or do you believe that Obama is a terrorist because he began his political campaign in Bill Ayers’ home in Chicago, you know the one who helped found the Weathermen that bombed police stations, actually killing policemen? Or that he’s an America-hating racist because he spent twenty years in Reverend Wright’s church?

If you really want to see truth, to look toward what is actually real and not just part of the left-right hypocrisy and all-or-nothing rhetoric, you can’t have it both ways.

So, which shoes do you wear?

Rose’s Story:    Pick up a copy today!


 Purchase The Ghost Writer: Rose’s Story here

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