geneslamm

It was at a little eggs and waffles joint in Tuscon that I first got my calling. Manuel had just put the french toast on and Agnes had refreshed my coffee cup with her special hazelnut blend for about the 22nd time. I was halfway through a cigarette rolled with Virginia tobacco and rosemary when I heard the ruckus go down. Some poor son of a switch had lost his cake at the bottom of a reservoir, and the party was in one hour. I knew exactly what to do; I jumped into my scuba gear, got my rig over to the resevoir, and dived right in to the murky blackness. 15 minutes later the cake was out, with only minimal water damage, and I had become Gene Slamm, Cake Salvager.