[Hunter #7] It's Five O'Clock Somewhere
[The fire station | Open]
Ever since the whole zombie thing, Hannibal hadn't really left the house much. His mind was troubled, a mix between what had happened there and his own want to be back home, leaving him in a slump that he hadn't been in since he had been a vampire. It was almost a week after that he finally made himself get dressed for work making it to the fire station before anyone else did giving him time to put things in to perspective. He had cleaned his equipment, done the checks that he was supposed to do, and made sure the resident pooch was fed. That was when the idea had hit him.
The stores in the kitchen were decent enough, but with the idea that Hannibal had there was no way he'd be able to pull it off with what was there. So he had taken his ride to the store, purchasing everything he'd need in order to feed everyone outside the crews. Okay so his cooking skills in some areas weren't top notch but the man could make an eight-alarm chili that could put hair on your chest. By the time others started to filter in to work he had the crew going in the largest pot that he could find. Patiently the stations dog sat by his feet waiting for anything that Hannibal might pass on to him which did happen sometimes. The dog had a stomach of rock much like the man who was cooking to eat what was going in or coming out of the pot. By noon the firehouse smelled like, well, it depended on the person.
With the firetrucks moved out of the garage considering the use they got and tables set up inside, the finishing touch used was writing in chalk on the side of the building about the free food. Hell they could all use a break after everything that had happened. Why not bond of hot, spicy food and cold beers in the cooler for those that could have them? Of course, there were Cokes for those he didn't want to be drinking that early- King would be lying if he tried to lie and say he hadn't had a couple already.
Besides who knew what the turnout could be like.
Ever since the whole zombie thing, Hannibal hadn't really left the house much. His mind was troubled, a mix between what had happened there and his own want to be back home, leaving him in a slump that he hadn't been in since he had been a vampire. It was almost a week after that he finally made himself get dressed for work making it to the fire station before anyone else did giving him time to put things in to perspective. He had cleaned his equipment, done the checks that he was supposed to do, and made sure the resident pooch was fed. That was when the idea had hit him.
The stores in the kitchen were decent enough, but with the idea that Hannibal had there was no way he'd be able to pull it off with what was there. So he had taken his ride to the store, purchasing everything he'd need in order to feed everyone outside the crews. Okay so his cooking skills in some areas weren't top notch but the man could make an eight-alarm chili that could put hair on your chest. By the time others started to filter in to work he had the crew going in the largest pot that he could find. Patiently the stations dog sat by his feet waiting for anything that Hannibal might pass on to him which did happen sometimes. The dog had a stomach of rock much like the man who was cooking to eat what was going in or coming out of the pot. By noon the firehouse smelled like, well, it depended on the person.
With the firetrucks moved out of the garage considering the use they got and tables set up inside, the finishing touch used was writing in chalk on the side of the building about the free food. Hell they could all use a break after everything that had happened. Why not bond of hot, spicy food and cold beers in the cooler for those that could have them? Of course, there were Cokes for those he didn't want to be drinking that early- King would be lying if he tried to lie and say he hadn't had a couple already.
Besides who knew what the turnout could be like.