“Order up!” LeRoy the cook shouted.
Molly rushed over and grabbed the plates filled with food.
They were very busy, so busy that the coffee shop owner, Pete had to pitch in that morning. He usually stayed in his office, out of the way, only acting as an umpire in a baseball game between LeRoy and Molly.
“He is the best short-order cook around,” Pete told himself every time trouble erupted.
The owner liked Molly. She was quirky in many ways but always level-headed and she did her best to keep LeRoy in line.
“Wish I had an extra hand,” LeRoy complained as he cooked five orders at once.
“Would a prehensile tail work?” Molly asked.
“Sure,” LeRoy smiled, “As long as it can butter toast and flip burgers.”
Molly broke in a sing-song voice, whirling a butter knife like a wand in his direction saying:
“While you slumber,
You will grow a tail,
And all this summer,
You will use it without fail,
As all memory leaves you,
And the boss, Peter, too.”
LeRoy twisted to his right and saw there was nothing there and laughed, “A tail, my ass.”
The following day, in a panic, LeRoy came to the coffee shop early. Only Pete was there.
“Look! She gave me a tail.”
“Who gave you a tail?”
“Who is Molly?”
“I think your cheese has slid off your cracker, LeRoy.”
“She was here yesterday.”
“We were closed yesterday.”
With the thought of Molly fading, LeRoy put on his apron and started setting his kitchen up for the morning rush. And as promised, his prehensile tail could butter toast and flip burgers, and it came in mighty handy when it came to scratching his itchy nose.
As for Molly, she took the summer off and vacationed in the Virgin Islands. Come winter, she returned and incanted the return of her job.