About two-weeks ago, I made a face out of a left-over dough. I had planned on making it look like Whitey, but it turned out looking like our friend, “Z”.
See? The strong chin gave it away.
I baked “Z” at 700-degrees for about ten minutes (insert all kinds of inappropriate jokes here) and he cooked up nicely. Here’s the strange thing — “Z” called me about two hours after baking this mini dough replica of him.
Our kitchen manager laughed out loud when she overheard the message that “Z” had called…. she said, “Where did he call from? Your desk?”
Lil’ baked “Z” was sitting on my desk, waiting for Whitey to see it and laugh before tossing it in the garbage.
Our friend, “Z”, was calling to tell us about crappy stuff that’s been going on with him, and to bounce ideas off of us. We talked for awhile, and I never mentioned the doughboy replica of him sitting on my desk, staring at me during our phone conversation. It was just too strange.
I’m taking good care of my “Z” replica, at least until I hear from the real “Z” that everything is kosher. It’s my own little “Z” Voodoo doll.