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Gourmet Shef Makes Fried Chicken

It was a bright sunny morning in New York City. On main avenue, in a large restaurant, a cooking contest was taking place. The tables and chairs had been arranged into miniature kitchens, and about ten contestant cooks were standing, watching the judges at the head table. There was one empty kitchen, maybe the contestant was late. There were four judges. A scrawny black and white cat with long fur sat reclining on the table. Next to the cat, a man with a large afro and a scraggly beard was picking his teeth with a short, golden dagger. “Arr! Shiver me timbers! Turn down the air conditioning!” he cried. Next to the pirate, sat two real chef judges, a cook with long curly hair and the most famous chef, Ibn Grandosy.

“The theme for today’s competition is ‘Fast Food’. Let’s get started!” Ibn Grandosy clapped his meaty, sweaty hands, and all of the chefs started chopping away excitedly. A couple seconds later, there was a loud honking noise, and through the double doors of the restaurant burst Shef, the infamous cook. He was holding two geese by the neck, and he shook them to stop them from honking.

“Eheh! I’m going to make fRiEd cHikEn! My own recipe” Shef commented, casually strolling to his kitchen. The pirate and the two judges watched, horrified, as Shef dipped the dirty, muddy geese in a flour coating, and heated up the deep fryer. Shef brought out his scabbard, and pulled a squash from his large, green splattered hat. He grunted, throwing the squash into the air, and sliced it in two. Shef sprinkled cayenne pepper on the vegetable and dropped it into the deep fryer. “Delicious fried nutrients!” Shef cackled, rubbing his long, claw-like fingers together.

One of the geese honked, and tried to fly away, but Shef grabbed it by the neck. “You’re not getting away from me, little goose!” Honked Shef. He pulled out the peppery squash and replaced the geese in the fryer. They honked, putting up a memorable fight, but Shef had the upper hand, AND the deep fryer. The geese were cooked to death. Shef pulled out the fried chicken. “Who wants to taste?!” The rest of the cooked stared, disgusted, and shocked, as Shef put the whole fried geese and peppered squash onto a plate and held it up.

Ibn Grandosy pushed back his chair suddenly, standing, his eyes burning. He pulled out his pistol and fired two shots. The bullets found their mark, buried deep in Shef’s heart. The pirate scallywag also flung his sword at Shef, and it went flying into Shef’s leg. Shef did not live.

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