Dollops

writing prompt: Lorraine watched the brown dollops roll past her on the assembly line.

 

Lorraine watched the brown dollops roll past her on the assembly line.

 

Blop. Blop. Blop.

 

Despite the deafening noise of the machines around her, all she could hear was the figuarative soundtrack to the glistening, uneneding row of cookie goo.

 

She glanced at the clock on the far wall--her lord and master. She switched the spatula to her other hand, if only for something to do. If only as a reminder that it wasn't an extension of her arm, but something apart from her. Her job was to scrape any imperfectly formed raw cookies off the assembly line before they reached the oven. They called it quality control. But the ceaseless perfection of the machines made her completely unnecessary.

 

Blop. Blop. Blop.

 

Only five more hours to go.

 

~TB 9/14/11