Sitting on a roof. The soft green muscular giant sat there, legs dangling. The only one who wasn't drunk. I had to talk to him. He was beautiful. I had to talk to him.
Info: Gordon Ramsay's Pov. A lot of photoshop images. Good plot-twist. Weird as f...
Walking across my kitchen, insulting almost every cook.
''This mushroom is so raw, it said the princess is in another castle!''
''This lamb is so undercooked, a Swedish man could still fuck it!''
''This salad is so underdressed, it makes Miley Cyrus look classy!''
Yes. All of this is stolen. No creativity. (And also, no shame.)
They're all just useless fat sacks of Yankee Doodle dandy shite. And now this bitch can't even use an oven.
I start nagging her, saying fuck a lot, and tell her to ''fuck off'' million of times, but all she does is say excuses.
''At least Hitler could you an oven!''
Yes. Also stolen, and I love it, even if it's highly offensive. But... Meh.
I look across the restaurant, thinking, we're wasting time. My clients are waiting, what are these idiots doing?! I decided to ask people what they think of their plates.
I scroll my eyes around to try and catch a table that-. Oh. My.
I rush to the table with a wide fake smile, feeling my heart fly.
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Can we just take a moment to just admire how fucking adorable Gordan Ramsay is in this? Like. Godam. This is my new background.
''Hello.''
''Hello.'' Replies Beyonce.
''I never thought you'd ever come here,'' I say like a hopeless romantic. I-I, Beyonce and I come way back. We went to high school together, and I had a huge crush on her.
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
That's how she looked, and that's how I looked...
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
