![]() “Little Chef, can you get zos? I’m still making this Shrimp Crepe Florentine.” calls the beautiful woman with medium dark purple hair as she dresses the shrimp cocktail with greens. “Order up! One Beef Bourguignon and one Quiche Florentine.” Calls the tall, red-headed waiter as he slaps a piece of paper on the front kitchen counter before skating back into the dining room. “Hello, I’m having trouble with my restaurant business.” he begins with a sinister grin, “My name is…Alfredo Linguini.” After a few rings, he’s connected through. The text reads “If your restaurant business is suffering and would like Chef Ramsay to help, call 1-900-XXX-XXXX.” Skinner immediately dashes to the phone and dials the number in a heartbeat. The program cuts to a commercial break and displays some white text on a dark background. “I REALLY like this guy’s style” he says. Makes me ****ing sick.” A smile slowly spreads across Skinner’s face. I have to bring my guys in here and ****ing fumigate this whole place. Ramsay on the TV continues his onslaught, “Is that a mousetrap? You have ****ing mice in the kitchen? Why do you have ****ing mice in the kitchen? This is ****ing crazy. “I like this guy’s style.” he says to himself. Skinner leans forward in his chair, his eyes widening. “This tomato is ****ing rotten! You were actually going to ****ing serve this? Are you ****ing mad? Are you trying to ****ing kill your customers?” he continues as the restaurant owner remains speechless. “This is where you ****ing cook? In a ****ing dumpster? What the **** is this?” asks Gordon Ramsay, the star of the show. The kitchen is very dirty and unsanitary. The program depicts an English man with blonde spiked hair inspecting a restaurant kitchen. “Sounds like something I can relate to.” he mumbles as he puts down the remote. He stops on the Food Network, and is greeted by the metallic logo, Kitchen Nightmares. With a huff, he turns on the TV and begins flipping through channels. “I could’ve made millions with my frozen foods, but you had to come in and ruin everything! You and that filthy, stinking, little RAAAAAT!” he shouts as he plops into his armchair and picks up the remote. “That was MY dream! I was to carry the torch set by Gusteau! “he yells as he leaps from his chair and stomps to the living room. “Drat! Curse you Linguini!!” shouts Skinner as he crumbles up the newspaper and throws it across the room. ![]() To become a 5-star restaurant would be a dream come true for all of us!” When asked for his comments on a possible 5 th star, Linguini responded “It’s a real honor to have become so famous so fast. Critics foresee the possibility of a 5 th star to be awarded before the end of the year. The outstanding restaurant run by Alfredo Linguini achieved 4-star ranking after only its 3rd month of business. He then opens to the food section, staring back at him are big bold headlines that read “La Ratatouille to receive 5th Star” Skinner growls vengefully as he continues to read, “La Ratatouille has once again been voted the finest restaurant in France for the 6th month running. “ Saint-Germain lost again, what else is new?” mutters Skinner to himself as he skims through the sports sections. He sets a pot of coffee to brew, sits at his tiny kitchen table, and opens his morning newspaper. The little man is currently unemployed, and therefore has no need to wake up early. A short man sits up, yawns, and climbs out of bed.
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