The kitchen smelled of old men's underwear that Bughut found.
The rats there seemed determined to find some tasty food!
Closing time was coming near and tomorrow's menu wasn't written.
Dirty dishes were piled up in the unused steam kettle.
Superchef was not concerned, he had seen ratatouille, figured movies.
While he dove head first into the task, Zeppelin ringing in his left ear, only pausing to dodge a flying cleaver moving at warp speed.
"Who flung a cleaver?" he shouted as he pulled it out.
"Hmmm.....tastes like demi!, Demi Moore, that is!"
Suddenly out of nowhere Demi appeared, smelling of old men's underwear.
Suddenly, a naked old man, with brie behind his ears streaked through the dining room, launching his crusty self at three drunk, rich women dripping in jewels, gold and enough perfume to kill insects.
"OH MY GOD!!!" screamed one "Has anyone any Grey Poupon?"
"Yes, it's a fine mustard" the old man in the corner responded , hiding his own jar up Demi Moore's genuine silk wrapped Chihuahua. That spoiled, little dog...
Superchef was furious, he'd planned a formal brunch for tomorrow.
The menu, while unique, was ...MISSING!! "Looks like spam again"
The Chihuahua lifted its leg, soiling Superchef's smock. "I'm so ashamed of him, thank goodness for Oxy Clean!"
He grabs the first available feather boa, intending to use it to re-caulk the bathtroom
"Oh ~F**k" cries Ty Pennington. "We can lubricate the boa with some hair gel, but we gotta save the tail end for superchef."
Ty's kitchen makeover wasn't impossible, but he would need biscuits and gravy for ballast.
Meanwhile, Superchef, drinking gallons of Pink Squirrels and Fuzzy Navels, convinced Ty to build a TV chef re-habilitation home. So, in a cloud of flatulence,
The rats there seemed determined to find some tasty food!
Closing time was coming near and tomorrow's menu wasn't written.
Dirty dishes were piled up in the unused steam kettle.
Superchef was not concerned, he had seen ratatouille, figured movies.
While he dove head first into the task, Zeppelin ringing in his left ear, only pausing to dodge a flying cleaver moving at warp speed.
"Who flung a cleaver?" he shouted as he pulled it out.
"Hmmm.....tastes like demi!, Demi Moore, that is!"
Suddenly out of nowhere Demi appeared, smelling of old men's underwear.
Suddenly, a naked old man, with brie behind his ears streaked through the dining room, launching his crusty self at three drunk, rich women dripping in jewels, gold and enough perfume to kill insects.
"OH MY GOD!!!" screamed one "Has anyone any Grey Poupon?"
"Yes, it's a fine mustard" the old man in the corner responded , hiding his own jar up Demi Moore's genuine silk wrapped Chihuahua. That spoiled, little dog...
Superchef was furious, he'd planned a formal brunch for tomorrow.
The menu, while unique, was ...MISSING!! "Looks like spam again"
The Chihuahua lifted its leg, soiling Superchef's smock. "I'm so ashamed of him, thank goodness for Oxy Clean!"
He grabs the first available feather boa, intending to use it to re-caulk the bathtroom
"Oh ~F**k" cries Ty Pennington. "We can lubricate the boa with some hair gel, but we gotta save the tail end for superchef."
Ty's kitchen makeover wasn't impossible, but he would need biscuits and gravy for ballast.
Meanwhile, Superchef, drinking gallons of Pink Squirrels and Fuzzy Navels, convinced Ty to build a TV chef re-habilitation home. So, in a cloud of flatulence,
Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.
