Egg Foo Young

Written by bluez

It’s lunchtime at the S.A.L.T. Diner and the menu for the day is mainly Chinese food. The current cafeteria staff consists of Tonio (the head chef), Niko (the cook in training), and Duane (the waiter). Rigby assesses the items on the menu and carefully narrows down his choice.

Hmm... I’ll have the egg foo young. Hold the egg though.

So, you still want the foo young?

Yep yep.

Sounds grody, but sure.

A voice can be heard from inside the kitchen, that being one of distress.

Who cooked this rice?! It’s… crunchy!

Whelp, time to go instigate!

Please don’t-

Rigby skitters into the kitchen with Duane shortly on his tail. Tonio is staring at a bowl of rice with Niko looking up at him sadly.

It’s alright, I know you’re just starting out. I promise to help you become just as good a cook as you say your mother was.

Thank you, Mr. Trussardi!

Niko smiles, hugging Tonio’s leg and swiftly running away to check on the other contestants.
Rigby and Duane are perplexed, but also touched. Rigby quickly snaps back to the task at hand.

Hey, I ordered the egg foo young, no egg.

I understand that, but I’m a little busy right now-

HEY, GET YOUR PAWS OFF MY EQUIPMENT! At least wash your filthy hands before barging in here!

Look: You just cook the egg… and then take it out. It’s that simple.

Listen. If you order the egg foo young, then you get the egg foo young.

DUDE, JUST FORGET THE EGG AND PUT IN THE FOO YOUNG-

The kitchen door opens once more. This time, it’s Mordecai.

Is there seriously nobody working at the front? The line’s going all the way out the door. Anyways, I had the teriyaki chicken with brown rice-

NOW THERE’S TWO DELINQUENTS IN MY KITCHEN-?

Alright dude chill, I’ll take the white rice then.

GET OUT!

Okay, I’ll take the brown rice. Yo Rigby, you got a table set up?

You know it.

Cool, cool.

Mordecai and Rigby return to their seats and wait for their food to arrive.

Dude, what were you even doing back there?

You know me, man. It’s my mission to be problematic at all costs.

...

Yeah, that checks out.

Duane slides to their table on a pair of rollerskates, two plates in hand.

Here’s your order, dudes.

Sweet, thanks man.

Anytime. Good luck on your next match, homeboys!

Duane skates away to another table. They both dig in.

By the way, we’re not paying for this, are we?

Beats me.

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