No Alternative: Day 6

Word Count: 36,052

Summary of Events:

Drake — accompanied by his friend Rhys, who knew more about cars than he did — went to look at a potential replacement for his car, seeing as no mechanic in town thought the repairs necessary for his car were worthwhile, considering its state; the prospective replacement was almost twenty years newer and Drake quite liked it. Later Drake went to appeal to his parents for money to add to what he had saved to buy the car, but his parents objected, reminding him that they'd enrolled him for schooling he didn't want to take, and he made it clear to them that he didn't want to take it, which led to an argument with his dad, who claimed that his friends were spoiled by their parents and making him greedy . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“None of their parents are slaving away in such a hostile business as this,” Dad retorted. “This kind of business is vicious and ruthless, full of ungrateful ingrates who wouldn’t know what good food was if it hit them in the face.”

“You don’t know what good food is!” Drake cried, launching himself to his feet — which sent his chair slamming down to the floor. “If you knew what good food was you would be drowning in business and buying me a five-year-old car wouldn’t be this kind of contentious bone!”

“Now just a minute!” Dad bellowed, rising to his feet somewhat more slowly — although he didn’t push his chair far enough back before doing so, leading to it also falling back to the floor. “You are an untrained, inexperienced waiter–”

“Whom you keep commandeering to aid in the cooking part of things,” Drake interrupted.

“You know nothing of how to create a menu,” Dad countered. “You merely hand the finished product — both menu and food — to the customers. You know nothing of the complexities in food flavour and combination.”

“I have a tongue, and it sure works better than yours,” Drake snapped. “You know why some of the stuff on your menu hasn’t sold since you first introduced it? Because it’s gross! It’s enough to make a person vomit just to read the name of some of that!”

“I am the trained chef!” Dad roared. “I am the one who knows what to do and how to do it, and heir to my restaurant or not, you are subservient and unintelligent when it comes to the matters of the kitchen. I never have you cooking food unless it is the most extreme of emergencies.”

“Bull on that,” Drake swore. “You pull me off tables to cut vegetables even when I’m intending to go out right in that same minute and take an order or give a customer their meal! And you chain me to that kitchen as if I’m in a prison! If you want happy customers you need to let people do their job and not manhandle us like a bunch of puppets! We are all  independent people who know what we’re doing and how to do it, and we probably know it better than you do!”

“You are a complete incompetent!” Dad bellowed. “You don’t know how to do anything properly!”

“But Oriann does?” Drake demanded. “You let her do whatever she wants, you’re letting her choose her own future and plot her own course, but me? Apparently I’m some kind of a dunce or something. I’m capable of making my own judgements and decisions, and I’d rather be allowed to be my own person than your slave. I don’t want your filthy restaurant I want to live my own life!”