Excerpt from The Crock Pot in Hell's Kitchen:
You’re in a restaurant kitchen. People of every skin color and ideology are frying, yelling, chopping. Servers scurry underneath each other’s arms to grab plates and bread baskets. One of ‘em throws down a tray--the bossiest server took the last roll and didn’t order more. She knows who it is, and she’s gonna go off on her. A dishwasher slams a basket of silverware into a pallet-like frame, then shoves it in the machine. He hates having the dirtiest job--it pisses him off that the line cooks get more money.
The expo, a middle man responsible for traying orders, yells out. “Can you take a fire?!"
“Naw, not yet,” hollers back a cook, wiping sweat off his brow with a sleeve.
“Dammit!! I need it in the next two minutes….or Randy’ll hafta comp the meal!”
Everybody wants what they want, and NOW would be the perfect time. Chaos with a side of rice pilaf.
On one countertop, a crock pot simmers. A crock pot? What’s a crock pot doing in a commercial kitchen? Ain’t that a little slow for the corporate promise of a meal in 20 minutes?
Excerpt from NIGHT OF DREAMS, a short screenplay:
Jamond punches Kyra’s arm playfully.
JAMOND: Well, could I be your chaperone?
Kyra looks at him quizzically.
JAMOND: In Harlem.
Jamond sticks his chest out a little, looks at Kyra flirtatiously.
JAMOND: Would you feel safe with me? In Harlem?
KYRA: Of course. So when we going?
JAMOND: Soon as I get my grandpa’s car fixed.
KYRA: Okay. I’m ready to die.
JAMOND: Huh?
KYRA: Not even the mighty Jamond can save me from Momma’s wrath.
The two giggle a little, then fall silent.
A peek into Mr. Darius and the Tricky Letters:
Mr. Darius and the Tricky Letters is, to date, my only foray into writing for younger readers. It's the story of Brandyn, a second grader, and Darius, an unlikely reading tutor. Written in 2014, it's my first book, and will always hold a special place in my heart.
You’re in a restaurant kitchen. People of every skin color and ideology are frying, yelling, chopping. Servers scurry underneath each other’s arms to grab plates and bread baskets. One of ‘em throws down a tray--the bossiest server took the last roll and didn’t order more. She knows who it is, and she’s gonna go off on her. A dishwasher slams a basket of silverware into a pallet-like frame, then shoves it in the machine. He hates having the dirtiest job--it pisses him off that the line cooks get more money.
The expo, a middle man responsible for traying orders, yells out. “Can you take a fire?!"
“Naw, not yet,” hollers back a cook, wiping sweat off his brow with a sleeve.
“Dammit!! I need it in the next two minutes….or Randy’ll hafta comp the meal!”
Everybody wants what they want, and NOW would be the perfect time. Chaos with a side of rice pilaf.
On one countertop, a crock pot simmers. A crock pot? What’s a crock pot doing in a commercial kitchen? Ain’t that a little slow for the corporate promise of a meal in 20 minutes?
Excerpt from NIGHT OF DREAMS, a short screenplay:
Jamond punches Kyra’s arm playfully.
JAMOND: Well, could I be your chaperone?
Kyra looks at him quizzically.
JAMOND: In Harlem.
Jamond sticks his chest out a little, looks at Kyra flirtatiously.
JAMOND: Would you feel safe with me? In Harlem?
KYRA: Of course. So when we going?
JAMOND: Soon as I get my grandpa’s car fixed.
KYRA: Okay. I’m ready to die.
JAMOND: Huh?
KYRA: Not even the mighty Jamond can save me from Momma’s wrath.
The two giggle a little, then fall silent.
A peek into Mr. Darius and the Tricky Letters:
Mr. Darius and the Tricky Letters is, to date, my only foray into writing for younger readers. It's the story of Brandyn, a second grader, and Darius, an unlikely reading tutor. Written in 2014, it's my first book, and will always hold a special place in my heart.