Styrofoam Throne Read Online Free

the door. Janice made her signature butthole face and threw her purse at the coffee pot. I couldn’t imagine the odor going without remark.
    “What the hell is that smell? Did Viktor die on the toilet?” I asked.
    “It’s the grease trap.”
    “This place?”
    “No, the grease trap. It happens when it’s hot out. Get back there and clean it.”
    I parted the swinging doors and got slammed with origin-strength stench.
    Viktor was on his hands and knees under the sink.
    “Jesus, is that smell coming from your ass crack?” I said.
    “Get down here!”
    I got on the floor beside Viktor. He pulled his arm out of a deep hole.
    “This is you. Clean grease trap. It catches all grease from dishwater and holds so pipes don’t stop.”
    I let out a deep sigh but could only inhale short breaths to avoid being overtaken by the smell of rotting grease.  
    “And put on hair net!”

    When I finished, my arms were covered in brown grease that wouldn’t wash off.
    “How am I supposed to clean dishes when I’m covered in slime?”
    “Here,” Viktor said, throwing a Brillo pad at me.
    “This is for stainless steel, not skin!”
    “Don’t be girl. It will get off.”
    I worked the pad on my arms and it really did take the grease off. It also took off any hair on my arm and the first two layers of skin. I showed my raw arm to Viktor.
    “See? Now stop lazy and start wash.”
    After a while, I started getting the hang of the dishes but had no pride or pay to show for it. My thoughts turned to a possible escape. Going AWOL from The Roost became a full-time obsession.
    While I was scheming to myself over the sink, Janice walked into the back.
    “A customer left their dentures on a plate, where are they?”
    “Huh?”
    “For your own sake, tell me you got them.”
    “What dentures?”
    “Gibby left her dentures on her plate yesterday. You didn’t see someone’s fucking teeth staring at you while you’re doing dishes?”
    “There’s a lot of dishes.”
    “So I take that as a no.”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, Gibby has been coming here for over twenty years and if she said she left her dentures in a pile of mashed potatoes, we are going to find them for her.”
    “How do you forget teeth?”
    “Well, the good news is you get a break from the kitchen.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah. Because you’re going through the dumpster to find her teeth. That you threw out.”
    “The dumpster!”
    “The dumpster!” Janice echoed.  
    “You told me to never play in dumpsters.”
    “I didn’t say anything about working in them.”
    I went out to the alley and threw open the filthy dumpster. It was far worse than the grease trap and a hundred times bigger. Parts of it were actually moving, heaving with flies, maggots, and roaches scurrying about. I couldn’t do it.
    I went back inside, to the front, where Janice was talking with Gibby.
    “I’m not going in that thing! It’s fucking alive!”
    Janice grabbed my arm and dug her fingers in the tendons as she led me into the kitchen.
    “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. Ever. And especially not in front of customers. You have no class. None.” Janice grabbed a napkin and doused it with a bottle of vanilla extract. “Here. Put this in your face and start digging.”
    “I don’t need that—I need a flame thrower!”
    Janice made the butthole face and worked her jaw muscles to show that she was gearing up for the rarely seen “other level.”
    “Fine. But if I die, it’s your fault.”
    “I can live with that.” Janice spun around and changed her expression the moment she put her hand on the kitchen door.
    I started walking back to the alley but Viktor stopped me.
    “Wait. Take these,” Viktor said, handing me two unused trash bags.
    “What’s this gonna do?”
    “Put each one on legs and pull drawstring tight by thighs.”
    “You’re pretty cool for a Russian, Viktor.”
    “Cool is nothing.”
    I put the trash bag chaps on and waddled outside. I stood in front of