~BBW, ~XWG, Eating - Upper-class woman takes on the Feast of the Titans.
(Author's Note: Alive, kicking, and posting a new story!)
Chapter 1
Anyone who was anyone knew about the Magician's Tower, a restaurant on the Los Angeles boulevard, overlooking the glamorous area of the city. It was one of the largest, and certainly the newest, restaurant to hit the city of angels- it had only come into town over the last two months- but it had already gotten a reputation for being able to fill even the most gluttonous patron and have the strangest and most exotic of dishes prepared from behind its walls.
This was all overseen by a certain Josef Kaplain, a pudgy man with long hair and steely eyes. Smelling of spices and strange herbs, it was clear that he was a chef of great reputation. However, there was something more about this man, as he always seemed to get his dishes just so, and never seemed to work up a sweat, despite being the only fully competent chef on the premises- except his assistant Sharla.
Sharla was a 20-something girl, from the Terokee tribe in the reservation, and enjoyed food, having gained something like 300lbs in the time she had stayed with Josef. With all the fat waitresses and waiters, Sharla was the biggest, but probably the most happy, as she bustled about the tables, merrily producing all manner of concoctions for people to try out. There was a history behind Josef, of his other assistants, though he never elaborated on that, strangely smiling to himself whenever he mentioned one of his other assistants.
This of course did not matter to Patricia Veronica Merrycane, who was sitting at a table, sipping a glass of red wine with her whipped dog of a husband next to her. All she saw was a fat man who claimed he could cook with an even fatter assistant Indian chef who had the nerve to come to her town with a restaurant. She smiled a shark smile; the two would not survive her next write up, not that anyone ever did. She got into the critic business the old-fashioned way: by being utterly mean... to everyone.
"Look at this place," she hissed. "It's a waste of space- and look at the decor, just look at it... Alfred, I'm talking to you!"
"Yes dear."
"Well?!" Her eyes could have frozen water at thirty paces.
"It's terrible dear, it's all terrible!" Alfred tried to sound like he meant it.
"It's run by two fatties, of course it's going to be terrible!" She spat the wine out onto the floor. "Oh, this is wretched stuff! How can this be the house red if it is this disgusting! Waiter!" She pretended to glance over the menu as the person who should have been a waiter came over.
"Hello, I'm Sharla and I'll be your chef for this evening."
"I didn't want the chef," sneered Patricia, "I wanted a simple waiter to yell at, but seeing as you're apparently even simpler than a waiter, I'll yell at you! Firstly, the house red is horrible and thus, I will not be paying for it..."
"Madam, surely..." Sharla was silenced when Alfred offered his wife's business card (to allow her to continue to critique without distraction).
"Secondly, I will not have my food prepared by you, as you'd probably eat it before it gets sent out, Miss Piggy McHippo! Thirdly... Wait. What on earth is this?"
"Oh that," Sharla said, regaining her composure "That's Josef's specialty. The Feast of the Titans. Basically, you can eat as much as you want until you feel full, whilst Josef shows off his full set of skills in preparing food."
"This is madness! You actually have a dish that shows off your chef's paltry skills, Blimpo?" Patricia almost laughed with derision.
"Well, yes."
"What an arrogant pair of lardbutts you two are," snarled Patricia, placing the menu down with delicate fingers, she declared her challenge. "Well, let's make this interesting. If I do end full up by the end of this meal, then I will write that this restaurant is fantastic and that all the fat sad losers should visit it. If I don't, then you pack up and leave, I write whatever I want and I don't pay for the meal! Deal?"
"Erm...."
"Oh, show some back bone, you ugly sack of blubber!" Patricia sneered.
"Ok then, Madam," Sharla said, smiling again, "and for sir?"
"Oh, well... erm... well... just a simple sandwich will be fine." Alfred looked at his wife as he said that.
"Very well then. Enjoy your meal." Sharla waddled back to the kitchen as fast as she could, her heart slowly sinking.
Josef was standing there, his face grim. Behind him, pots and pans were dishing out meals for all manner of tastes all by themselves.
"I saw what happened," he muttered to her. "Are you okay, Sharla?"
"You go," Sharla replied, close to tears. "What a horrible woman! It's okay, I'll be okay; I'll call for your backup. Go, Josef, take her down!"
The Chef of the Titans
by Irish Bard
by Irish Bard
(Author's Note: Alive, kicking, and posting a new story!)
Chapter 1
Anyone who was anyone knew about the Magician's Tower, a restaurant on the Los Angeles boulevard, overlooking the glamorous area of the city. It was one of the largest, and certainly the newest, restaurant to hit the city of angels- it had only come into town over the last two months- but it had already gotten a reputation for being able to fill even the most gluttonous patron and have the strangest and most exotic of dishes prepared from behind its walls.
This was all overseen by a certain Josef Kaplain, a pudgy man with long hair and steely eyes. Smelling of spices and strange herbs, it was clear that he was a chef of great reputation. However, there was something more about this man, as he always seemed to get his dishes just so, and never seemed to work up a sweat, despite being the only fully competent chef on the premises- except his assistant Sharla.
Sharla was a 20-something girl, from the Terokee tribe in the reservation, and enjoyed food, having gained something like 300lbs in the time she had stayed with Josef. With all the fat waitresses and waiters, Sharla was the biggest, but probably the most happy, as she bustled about the tables, merrily producing all manner of concoctions for people to try out. There was a history behind Josef, of his other assistants, though he never elaborated on that, strangely smiling to himself whenever he mentioned one of his other assistants.
This of course did not matter to Patricia Veronica Merrycane, who was sitting at a table, sipping a glass of red wine with her whipped dog of a husband next to her. All she saw was a fat man who claimed he could cook with an even fatter assistant Indian chef who had the nerve to come to her town with a restaurant. She smiled a shark smile; the two would not survive her next write up, not that anyone ever did. She got into the critic business the old-fashioned way: by being utterly mean... to everyone.
"Look at this place," she hissed. "It's a waste of space- and look at the decor, just look at it... Alfred, I'm talking to you!"
"Yes dear."
"Well?!" Her eyes could have frozen water at thirty paces.
"It's terrible dear, it's all terrible!" Alfred tried to sound like he meant it.
"It's run by two fatties, of course it's going to be terrible!" She spat the wine out onto the floor. "Oh, this is wretched stuff! How can this be the house red if it is this disgusting! Waiter!" She pretended to glance over the menu as the person who should have been a waiter came over.
"Hello, I'm Sharla and I'll be your chef for this evening."
"I didn't want the chef," sneered Patricia, "I wanted a simple waiter to yell at, but seeing as you're apparently even simpler than a waiter, I'll yell at you! Firstly, the house red is horrible and thus, I will not be paying for it..."
"Madam, surely..." Sharla was silenced when Alfred offered his wife's business card (to allow her to continue to critique without distraction).
"Secondly, I will not have my food prepared by you, as you'd probably eat it before it gets sent out, Miss Piggy McHippo! Thirdly... Wait. What on earth is this?"
"Oh that," Sharla said, regaining her composure "That's Josef's specialty. The Feast of the Titans. Basically, you can eat as much as you want until you feel full, whilst Josef shows off his full set of skills in preparing food."
"This is madness! You actually have a dish that shows off your chef's paltry skills, Blimpo?" Patricia almost laughed with derision.
"Well, yes."
"What an arrogant pair of lardbutts you two are," snarled Patricia, placing the menu down with delicate fingers, she declared her challenge. "Well, let's make this interesting. If I do end full up by the end of this meal, then I will write that this restaurant is fantastic and that all the fat sad losers should visit it. If I don't, then you pack up and leave, I write whatever I want and I don't pay for the meal! Deal?"
"Erm...."
"Oh, show some back bone, you ugly sack of blubber!" Patricia sneered.
"Ok then, Madam," Sharla said, smiling again, "and for sir?"
"Oh, well... erm... well... just a simple sandwich will be fine." Alfred looked at his wife as he said that.
"Very well then. Enjoy your meal." Sharla waddled back to the kitchen as fast as she could, her heart slowly sinking.
Josef was standing there, his face grim. Behind him, pots and pans were dishing out meals for all manner of tastes all by themselves.
"I saw what happened," he muttered to her. "Are you okay, Sharla?"
"You go," Sharla replied, close to tears. "What a horrible woman! It's okay, I'll be okay; I'll call for your backup. Go, Josef, take her down!"
