Sunday, August 22, 2010


This is Steve, he works at the Queen & Beaver with me. Usually he's telling the chef to fuck off, and throwing hot pans full of oil at the Vietcong dishwasher we have named Oliver. One time I casually asked him why he had so much rage, he simply pulled his chef knife out, threw it at his own left toe, looked me in the eye and said SIX SIX SIX EIGHTY EIGHT. I never talk to him anymore, shortly after this picture was taken he threw our chef down the stairs and ripped his shirt off. The only this that calms this infernal bad boy temper is the soothing sounds of R&B.

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