THE FOLLOWING PROGRAM IS RATED TV-MA AND IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES.
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
“THE LATCHKEY CHEF”
BROUGHT TO YOU BY PROGRESSIVE©
(We start with Donovan in his apartment rubbing his temples in anticipation.)
(Someone knocks on the door.)
DONOVAN: Come in…
(A man in a suit comes in with keys.)
SUIT MAN: Here are the keys to the restaurant. Oh, and the Deanda family sent me with this message. (Takes a piece of paper out of his pocket.) “Dear Donovan, fuck you. The Deandas.” They said
you’d know what that meant. Congrats. (He leaves.)
DONOVAN: That’s encouraging. Well it’s time to open this motherfucker up.
(Cut to Donovan at Garret’s apartment wearing a chef’s outfit.)
DONOVAN: I look like an asshole with this on.
GARRET: You look like a professional asshole.
GARRET: Alright it’s time for you to go into that kitchen, and proclaim it as yours. Got it?
DONOVAN: Got it?
GARRET: Get in there and fuck shit up, okay?
(Cut to Donovan and Garret in the back of a limousine driving down a busy New York road.)
DONOVAN: Oh, Jesus Christ…
GARRET: What is it?
DONOVAN: What the fuck do you think it is? I’m going to run this fucking restaurant and I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.
GARRET: You just realized what you’re getting into? Shit, dude you need to wake up.
DONOVAN: The goddamn press is out there.
GARRET: Well, just act natural. There’s plenty of security for the owner of the famous restaurant in this town.
DONOVAN: Yeah. The most famous restaurant. And some prick without a clue is going to be running it. Into the ground.
GARRET: Would you stop beating yourself up?
(The limo parks right outside “Deanda’s Fine Italiano”.)
LIMO DRIVER: We’re here, Mr. Deanda.
(The Limo Driver turns around., revealing himself to be an old man.)
DONOVAN: Uh, it’s Mr. Glister.
LIMO DRIVER: Whaat? What happened to Mr. Deanda?
DONOVAN: He died. Did you not hear about that?
LIMO DRIVER: WHAAAAAAAATTTT??????
(The Limo Driver pushes the acceleration and drives really fast through the streets of New York.)
DONOVAN: JESUS CHRIST! MISTER LIMO DRIVER, YOU FORGOT TO DROP US OFF!!!
LIMO DRIVER: I DROVE THAT ASSHOLE EVERY DAY FOR THIRTY GODDAMN YEAR, AND NOBODY EVENS TELLS ME THAT HE’S FUCKIN’ DEAD???
DONOVAN: DON’T YOU HAVE A TV??
LIMO DRIVER: NO YOU DUMBASS I’M 83-YEARS OLD FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!
GARRET: MISTER, UM, MISTER, UH…
LIMO DRIVER: MISTER JOHNSON, IT’S THE EASIEST SHIT TO REMEMBER EVER!
DONOVAN: GODDAMNIT MR. JOHNSON THERE’S A FUCKIN’ TREE YOU’RE ABOUT TO HIT!
MR. JOHNSON: WHAAT?
DONOVAN: THE TREEEEEEE!
(They ram right into a tree in Central Park. Donovan wakes up on the floor of the limo. Donovan gets up, coughs, and shakes his friend.)
DONOVAN: Garret! GARRET!
(Garret wakes up.)
GARRET: Agh! What? Shit. Is the driver okay?
DONOVAN: Let me check.
(He peeks over the seat to see the driver’s brains bashed in on the steering wheel. Blood is everywhere, and you can see part of the skull.)
DONOVAN: JESUS CHRIST…
DONOVAN: Um, the driver’s dead.
GARRET: Oh no…is there blood?
DONOVAN: Uh…sort of.
GARRET: What the hell do you mean “sort of”?
DONOVAN: Yeah, there’s a shitload of blood.
GARRET: A shitload?
DONOVAN: Yep. A hell of a lot of blood. And his skull is cracked.
GARRET: CHRIST! His fucking skull is cracked?
DONOVAN: Yeah, his skull is cracked up bad.
GARRET: Oh, finally. My hand hurts like a son of a bitch.
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
(We start with Garret and Donovan walking into the restaurant with cuts all over them as the media stands wide-eyed.)
NEWSMAN: Jesus Christ…
(They go inside the empty restaurant and flip on the lights. They sit at a table in the middle of the restaurant, near the bar.)
DONOVAN: Okay, we need to figure out what the hell to do.
GARRET: Seconded. So, I know how to cook about half the things in Antonio’s master cook book, which is locked in a drawer, in his office. It has all the classic dishes, and then it has some shit
that the other restaurants don’t get access to, and they’re only cooked on special occasions.
DONOVAN: Yeah I know. I also know how to cook the other half pretty well. If we combine our knowledge as cooks together, we can make it rain spaghetti sauce.
GARRET: Fuck yeah.
(They high-five. Cut to Donovan putting some spices on a half-cooked chicken, and then cut to Garret stirring a big pot of soup. Then there is a split-shot of Donovan and Garret putting together
salads, and then a montage of them cooking various dishes, and then serving them to each other and asking them what they think. About half are good, half are bad. At the end of the day, Donovan and
Garret are sitting at the same table.)
DONOVAN: Wow, I picked up a lot more stuff than I thought when I hung out with Uncle Antonio.
GARRET: Yeah, but I suck massive throbbing black cocks.
DONOVAN: No you don’t. You just need some improvement. Thanks for that imagery by the way.
GARRET: No problem. Well, we’ll wake up tomorrow morning fresh as biscuits, ready to try it again.
DONOVAN: Yeah, I guess.
(THIS PROGRAM HAS BEEN INTERRUPTED TEMPORARILY BY WIKILEAKS FOUNDER JULIAN ASSANGE)
JULIAN ASSANGE: Hello, television viewer. NEO Network has hired me to inform you that this show has been cancelled due to lack of writer interest and low ratings. The first episode only got 600,000
viewers, or as Booksie puts it, six. Sorry, but this shit is CANNED.
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