Chef Larry
by Michael A.
Skrien
“Hold the
filet aux livres!” Cliff shouted as Larry
set a plated fish in the server’s window.
“Did you even look at it?” Larry knew
it wasn’t booksteak. He looked down at the
greasy kitchen floor with humility, recalling a
moment when his own mother shouted the same thing
at him, but it concerned toast. He had forcefully
popped the toaster well before the bread was done.
His father disowned him in shame and his own
mother took him to be sold for adoption. He hadn’t
brought much once it was learned he had culinary
shortcomings.
As an adolescent, he floundered from restaurant
to restaurant, constantly burning something,
including actual buildings, or serving
undercooked chicken, killing a few here and there
in the process. Larry couldn’t even get a
job as dishwasher once his history at Chez Victor’s
High Class Drive-Thru had come to light. He’d
placed a chateaubriand slider in the rinse cycle
to clean off some dirt after it had fallen on the
floor. The customer noticed. As did the manager.
Once again, he was auctioned off to the streets.
He thought traveling abroad and making a new go
of things might change his luck, so off he went
to the French Riviera with hopes and dreams of
fine dining and world-renowned stardom in the
kitchen.
“Famous Larry’s Famous Fried Squidlets”
would take him to the stardom he always dreamed
of. Accidentally dropping a calamari order into
the open, working blender had spewn little bits
of squid all over the kitchen, several landing in
the deep fryer. Larry tried one thinking perhaps
a little breading before frying it would make the
future world renowned Caesar Salad accoutrement a
bit more palatable. He did so and the rest was
history. Sunglasses, a contract for a cooking
show, popping through the limo’s sunroof to
wave at his fans as they tossed beads and female
undergarments at him; this was it. He had “made
it.” He jarred them and sold to stores. He
had t-shirts and hats made that read: “Put A
Squidlet Down Your Gullet!”
Of course, that all ended when it was revealed
Larry’s brother, Jorge, had recently been
caught counterfeiting the squidlets with sheep
hinders, which come in at much lower overhead
cost. Jorge went to prison and Larry lost his
Limo rides and Sunglasses. His girl left him and
dogs broke wind when he passed by.
No one could have predicted Larry’s Mum’s
Toast Buffet would succeed, but it did.
Fortunately by now, Larry had the wherewithal to
ensure precision bread placement into the toaster
slots and using the strict guidelines for peak
brownness, was able to “pop” the toast
at just the right moment for the butter, jelly,
and squidpasting (Larry’s own personal touch)
processes to begin. The response was overwhelming.
The staff were unable to keep enough toast going
and it wasn’t long before Larry had his
sunglasses on again. The toast fountain
overflowed.
When asked by reporters long after he retired,
Larry stated what kept him going was sheer
perseverance and will power. “I knew I WAS
toast.”
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