THE FOLLOWING PROGRAM CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE AND SOME ADULT SITUATIONS. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
BROUGHT TO YOU BY ITT TECHNICAL INSTITUTE
“THE LATCHKEY CHEF”
(We start with a man in his apartment, on his futon watching Television.)
NEWSMAN: That’s a cute story, Linda.
MAN: Jesus, the local news is fucking bullshit.
NEWSMAN: I’m receiving some breaking news. Apparently, millionaire chef Antnio Deanda has passed away at the age of 57 in an apparent tragic car accident.
MAN: OH MY GOD…
NEWSMAN: We are getting this from one of our traffic reporters…apparently it was a seven-car pile-up on road 1267, near the turnpike coming out of Queens.
MAN: Holy shit…wait…(Picks up a phone and dials 212-555-4848)
OTHER MAN: Hello?
MAN: Hey, Garret.
GARRET: Uh, hey what’s up, Donovan?
DONOVAN: What’s up? Aren’t you watching the news?
GARRET: No dude, what’s going on?
DONOVAN: Antonio Deanda just died in a fucking car accident!
GARRET: Jesus Christ…REALLY?
DONOVAN: Yes, and I will inherit that place…do you think I’m ready for that?
GARRET: I don’t know…has your mom called you yet?
DONOVAN: No she’s in Maine for the weekend.
GARRET: Do they not have fucking phones in Maine?
DONOVAN: Not in the mountains!
GARRET: Oh, right. Jesus, I know them they won’t waste a second…they’ll hand you those keys faster than hell.
DONOVAN: No, they despise me, dude. The only person in the Deanda family that likes, or should I say, liked me was Antonio. They’ve been dreading this day for a long time…
GARRET: Well, maybe this is a good opportunity. You’ve been out of work for months, and obviously Antonio saw a lot in you, If he gave you the fucking restaurant.
DONOVAN: Are you kidding me? He was getting ready to take that out of the will because I asked him to! But now there’s no turning back…there’s no way I can cook like he does…there’s no fuckin’
GARRET: Would you calm the hell down?
DONOVAN: He thought I was going to turn into this hug chef super star! But I’m just and amateur! I dabble! I can’t cook the way he does…SHIT!
GARRET: CALM DOWN. Just give control of the restaurant to somebody who knows what they’re doing, okay?
DONOVAN: Oh, jeez, you’re right…dude, I forgot that was an option. Jesus Christ…I am relieved.
GARRET: Alright, I’ll talk to you later.
(They both hang up. Cut to a crowded street where many people are gathered around the car accident that killed Deanda. Donovan runs up to the scene, and tries to get under the caution tape, but a
police officer stops him.)
OFFICER: Stand back, sir!
DONOVAN: Please, officer, that’s my Uncle!
OFFICER: I’m sorry sir, but I still can’t let you in.
DONOVAN: BULLSHIT! I’m family!
OFFICER: Do not yell sir, or I will arrest you for disorderly conduct!
DONOVAN: Goddamnit…(He becks off.)
OFFICER: Thank you.
(The officer runs back to the scene. Antonio is dragged out of the wreckage of the seven-car pile-up and is put onto a stretcher, along with about fourteen others. Cut to two days from then. A
funeral is being held in Central Park. Antonio’s casket is covered with pictures and flowers as well as his Restaurant’s logo, “DEANDA’S FINE ITALIANO” it was called. Donovan is sitting in the back
row, while his grief-stricken family sits in the front. His two nineteen and twenty-five year old kids sit in the front, with their mortified 54-year old mother. His extended family surrounds,
including Donovan. Garret sits close by. The priest is giving the eulogy.)
FATHER HARWELL: Ladies and gentleman, we gather here today to celebrate a man. A man whose life was filled with wonder and success, but also trials and failures.
DONOVAN (NARRARATOR: As Father Harwell went on the usual Eulogy tangent, I couldn’t help but think what was waiting for me in that law office after the funeral. I knew about the restaurant, I just
hoped somehow that he had already removed it. I know I could cede control to someone else, but it almost seemed like a dishonor of his memory. I couldn’t help but think that, maybe, just maybe, I
could make it work and continue Antonio’s dream. For a certain time we were very close, and I knew he would want me to do this.
(Cut to the law office. All the friends and family are there.)
LAWYER: Hello, everybody. I am now going to read Mr. Deanda’s will. “Hello, my beloved friends and family. In this, the case of my demise, and my summoning to the home of the lord, Jesus Christ, I
write this final will and testament. To my loving wife, I leave the house that you and I share, as well as all of my cars and boats, and I leave you twenty-five percent of my fortune. To my son
Chase, I leave my summer home in Gainesville, Florida. To my son Timothy, I leave you in control of my company, “Deanda Foodstuffs International.”. I will always love all three of you. To my
brother Pablo, I leave my 60% stock share and my button collection. To my sister Nina, I leave my bed, which you have long adored, as well as all my clothes, so you may clothe your husband, whoever
that may be. To my dear friend and cousin Donovan, I leave you in charge of the original “Deanda’s Fine Italiano” restaurant in Manhattan, and I leave a 25% stock share in the company. To the rest
of my friend and family, I leave the rest of my fortune for you to split evenly, and this does not include the money invested in the restauarant chain to keep it operating, which goes to my son
Timothy and to Donovan. I love you all so much and will continue to love you living in eternal bliss.” Now, Mr. Donovan, he also put it in a clause allowing you to opt out of the ownership of the
restaurant, and then you could leave it to his VP. What do you choose?
DONOVAN: (Long silence.) I accept.
(Gasp from friends and family.)
TIMOTHY: WHAT THE FUCK?
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