Chef Chesky- A Culinary Experience.

Chapter 1-

He took the last puff of his cigarette and then flicked across the alley. He exhaled the nicotine smoke, which was quickly followed by a sigh of grief. For a moment he just stared into the darkness. His mind drawing a blank. Then he heard a voice come from the inside the kitchen.

"Order up"

He let out another long sigh of grief.

Chesky opened the door and stepped in. He was met with the hustle and bustle of a busy Friday night. The restaurant was packed. Waiters and waitresses whizzed back and forth past the head chef Chesky, as he morosely walked up to his station.

*Ding Ding *

"Order up order up order up..."

"Goddamnit where is that fucking Chesky?" yelled Sal Kavatzki, the owner of the restaurant.

"CHESKY! Would you get back to fucking work, Jesus Christ, I got 2 tables waiting for their food! Fuuuck me I swea-"

Chesky tuned him out.

The restaurant was doing well. Sal's Pal's, known for its gourmet touch on fast-food items, was doing well. Burgers, frankfurters, fried chicken. You name it, and Chesky would make it for you, and add his own touch in the mix.

He got to his station, read the order bill, and within minutes had prepared a lovely medium rare Gouda cheese hamburger. It beamed of mastery. But Chesky wasn't satisfied. The hamburger meat lay on the plate ready to be finalized and served. All that was left was to sandwich it between the buns. But before doing so, Chesky needed to add his special touch. Doing a quick scan to see if anyone was looking, he used his left hand to pull open his waistband, and in one swift motion his right hand darted in and grabbed both of his balls. Sweaty, greasy, and having not showered in days, Chesky let his balls marinate in his hands for a good 7 seconds, giving them a squeeze for good measure. Their stench was so foul that it reached all the way up to his nostrils. He then removed his hand from his trousers, cupped the bun with it, and held it 3 inches away from his face, admiring his work. He then placed the bun on to the burger, and yelled out for the order to be taken to the table.

Table #12. Jeff Hornstein. Local banker. Typical modern day drone of society, a regular at the restaurant. Chesky knew what he was doing.

He stood at the window that looked out at the restaurant dining area. His eyes followed the plate all the way till they reached the customer. The waiter served the Madame first. A chicken Caesar with a southern touch, quite the plate actually.

Stupid bitch Chesky thought.

Chesky had dipped his balls in the Caesar sauce as well earlier that morning. He wasn't ready to spare anyone. Everyone's getting their share. Then came the burger. Placed in front of the 200 pound banker, Hornstein could barely see the plate as he tried to look over his belly. He picked it up with both hands and admired it. Apart from it being violated earlier, the thing really was a masterpiece. Cooked to perfection. He gaped his mouth wide, and took a big bite.

"Mmmmm.... Reaall goo-"

The words could barely leave his mouth because of all the food. He chewed the bite down to bits before eventually swallowing.

"So he prefers to swallow" Chesky chuckled, adding a twisted humor to the mix.

The fat banker looked towards the window of the kitchen and spotted Chesky. He flashed him a big smile with a thumbs up. Chesky smiled back. And waved to his wife, who in turn gave a bright red lipstick smile back. "God what a ugly fucking whore," he thought.