Cooking Duel Theatre 3000
There was no reason to split a 12 pack in their parent’s living room on a Tuesday night while watching The Food Network, but there was no reason not to, so they popped open a Yuengling each.
One of the many Chef-off competition shows had started, and they were about to introduce the contestants as Stevie and Emilia lounged on their respective couches. The first chef was introduced and his audition tape began to play. “I’m Giacomo Roccorito, Executive Chef at Strive in Manhattan, a fine dining restaurant in the mecca of modern cuisine.” Emilia wasn’t having it, “oh my god, I already hate this guy. Your name is not Giacomo Roccorito, that’s nobody’s name, shut up.” “I’m classically trained and sickly ambitious. I like sexy, exciting food, the kinda food that just pops off the plate.” “Anyone who refers to food as sexy really needs to kill themselves, and quickly,” Stevie added. “I may be young, but I’m already very accomplished in the industry, and these other Chefs better watch out… yea, I got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Giacomo confidently laughed after this statement. Stevie put his beer down and began gesturing at the T.V with his hands, “why are you laughing, stop fake laughing, stop being you.” Emilia added, “he really needs to stop being him, he has to be someone else, immediately.” “I hate him.” “He better lose.” The next chef was introduced and her audition tape began to play. “I’m Stacy Stason, I’m 24, I’m a Sous Chef at Berri in Williamsburg in Brooklyn, and I came here to win, so these other chefs better steer clear.” “I bet she’s here to prove that she can hang with the guys,” Emilia said. “I live and breathe food, I may look sweet, but I’m a fierce competitor. It’s a male dominated industry, and I’m here to show the boys what we girls can do in the kitchen.” “I think Stacy is setting women back by trying to show the boys what she can do in the kitchen.” “It’s only setting us back if she loses to that first douchebag.” The next chef was introduced. “I’m Jeffrey Gosewich and I’m Chef/Owner of Morning Catch in Portland, Maine. I may not work in a fancy New York restaurant, but I got the experience and skills to take this money back to Portland.” “I think Big Jeff should focus his bitterness on Portland, Oregon before he goes after New York, baby steps.” Emilia replied, “Jeff Gosewich has already surpassed that Portland in his mind, he’s going right for those fancy bastards.” “Bold Jeff Gosewich, very bold.” “I have two beautiful daughters, and unfortunately, this business doesn’t afford you much free time. So I wanna win for them. The money would let me spend more time with them, and they can say ‘hey, my dad’s a champ’.” “They’re never going to say that, you’re living in a god damn fantasy land Jeff Gosewich.” Emilia laughed, “how would ten thousand dollars help him spend more time with his kids? What’s he gonna abandon his restaurant for 3 weeks and hang out with them, until he realizes ten thousand dollars isn’t life changing?” “Hahaha seriously, like you can’t even get a new car with that money. Buy a plane ticket out of that fantasy land Jeff Gosewich and just start a college fund or some shit… and continue to neglect your children to pursue your dream, you selfish fuckin Jeff Gosewich. What a fuckin Jeff Gosewich this guy is.” “Yea they don’t need you anyway Jeff Gosewich.” The last Chef was introduced, her tape began to play as Stevie opened up two more Yuenglings. “I’m Mia Bertones, I’m 28 and I’m a Personal Chef and Caterer living in Miami.” Stevie took a few sips from his beer, “big gal.” Emilia had a mouthful of beer and was trying not to spit any out, “terrible.” “I know, I’m sorry Mia, for all I know you have a glandular disorder.” “I’ve always loved cooking and being in the kitchen from when I was a little girl cooking with my mother.” “Here it comes.” “Earlier this year my mother passed away… but I know she’s looking down on me… and I’m gonna win this for her.” Stevie asked, “how long until she brings up that her mother’s dead to the judges?” Emilia replied, “maybe she’ll do it before the first round even starts. They’ll unveil the ingredients and she’s gonna just yell out ‘MY MOTHER’S DEAD’.” Stevie laughed, “these people have no shame, what do they think like they’re not gonna care that their food sucks because their parents are dead?” Emilia began imitating a judge on the show, “well, this is the absolute worst, most over cooked, under seasoned piece of salmon I’ve ever eaten… but it’s really tough what you’ve been through, so here’s then thousand dollars.”
Stevie was younger than Emilia by three years, but had a good eight inches on her. “How do I always end up on this retarded, tiny ass half a couch?” “Shut up, that’s how.” Stevie took a long sip from the bottle, “ohhhhh, that’s how.” He shifted around trying to find a way to get comfortable with his lanky limbs hanging off all sides of the couch, “this couch is fuckin ridiculous!” “You look very funny right now,” Emilia said while taking out her phone, “don’t move.” She took a picture and laughed, “that’s quite good.” “I’m glad… Let me see.” She threw her phone over to him, he laughed, “I look like a fuckin giant, invading a planet of dumb little couches.” “Yes, yes you do.” “But seriously, why is this here, why do we have this?” “I really don’t know… Not mom’s best decision. I’m surprised, she usually has better taste. I don’t know why she went with these like modern art chairs that are hard to sit on.” “Time to take her out back. If these are the choices she’s making, her time is up.” “That’s your line? For killing your mother? Poor couch choices?” He took another long sip, “yes. What’s the saying? Time to let her go graze? Throw her outside?” “Put her out to pasture?” “That’s the one. We gotta do that, you get a bad couch, you get put out to pasture.” “Harsh.” “Harsh, yes. Harsh but fair.” Emilia laughed, “but is it?” “There’s gotta be consequences. You can’t just go floating through life buying little couches when all of your sons are over 6 feet.” “Yea, but you’re the only one who still lives here.” Stevie felt his argument dwindling, “stop defending this dumb little couch, you come sit on it if you think mom should live.” Emilia took a sip from her bottle, “on second thought, maybe she needs to go… Speaking of dead mothers, this Mia broad is trying to make rice in the appetizer round.” “When will these fucks learn?” “How many people have to undercook rice on this show before they realize rice takes too long.” “She’s gonna be pushing that sob story hard.” “Yea, make up some lie about how her mother was able to cook rice in five minutes.” “I wish Joe Pesci was one of the judges for that, ‘was dis magic rice? Did she buy from da same guy who sold Jack his bean stalk beans?’” Emilia laughed and there was a brief pause in the conversation as they watched the show, then Stevie went back to his Pesci impression, “’are you sure about dose five minutes, are you sure about dose five minutes?!’” They both laughed, “I would give anything for that to happen right now.” “Let’s just put Cousin Vinny on.”
They didn’t change the channel. They didn’t switch seats. They opened up a bag of Garden Salsa Sun Chips, they still had half the 12 pack left.