The Dream

Mister Chef, Sir? What am I suppose to be putting here black or white pepper?� �Neither! What have I been telling you all this time? You do not put pepper into your strawberry cheese cakes! I said you mix sugar in there and try to see that you don’t put in the brown sugar, but the regular white sugar!� rn�Uh sir. The guests are coming shall I bring out the appetizers?�rn�Not yet. Can’t you see that it still needs 10 minutes to cook? We cannot go around feeding these people uncooked food! What if they get food poisoning? I’ll be ruined! No, not just ruined, I’ll be doomed! Can’t you see that the President is coming as the guest of honor? What if he’ll suddenly collapse because of my food? Do you want Secret Service Agents swarming over here and dragging me out? Do you want me to rot forever in prison?�rn�Uh of course not sir. We would not want that to happen.�rn�Well, get everything done perfectly! We cannot afford to make mistakes!�rnrnSweat has started trickling all over my body. Life of a chef is not a walk in the park. Through sheer determination, I started this fusion restaurant mixing Asian and western cuisine. It has been very slow business then. But people suddenly discovered my cooking and when I began winning international awards, I became a celebrity chef. As a result, my restaurant became the hottest spot in town. Celebrities, businessmen, politicians and the country’s who’s who all want to take part of the action. Not bad for someone who started his passion for cooking by playing cooking games on the Net. Ah, cooking games. On a better day, I would have indulged my nostalgia of my childhood. Playing cooking games was an obsession back then. I just don’t have the time right now. Today my restaurant has been closed for a special party in honor of the new president-elect. I was thrilled of course, but the stress started when Secret Service Agents began coming in days before inspecting the whole place and watching our every move like we are harboring Bin Laden in our industrial size refrigerator. If the Secret Service agents were bad enough, I can’t properly do my work with all the media hovering and waiting to interview me. Does it matter what kind of soup will I serve the president? I am pretty sure that it will not affect national security. rnrnThe dinner began to start. All went well when suddenly the president choke. Somebody then shouted: � The chef poisoned the president!� The horrors! I feel faint. This can’t be happening to me! I feel my life flash before me. All my hard labor will go to waste! I’ll rot in prison! The agents swarm over me and pointed all their high powered weapons at me. �You’re not a chef! You only learned to cook through cooking games! cooking games!�rnrnBefore I finally lost consciousness from fear, I woke up.

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