I only wrote this because I'm watching Iron Chef. And I always wanted to do breakfast. Behold, the most delicious story ever told...
A Mafia Breakfast
Snype woke up, his peaceful slumber interrupted by a sharp banging on his locked door. "Get your goddamn hand out of your pants, and get up!" bellowed Boris. "Breakfast's ready!"
He went to his mirror, and began brushing his teeth. "Shut the fuck up, I'm coming already!" Boris responded by kicking his door, hurting his foot in the process. He silently swore, and limped away to go bother another poor member who still didn't get up to his retarded expectations.
Snype took a (very) quick shower, and got out his best shirt. If he had to go to breakfast with everyone instead of just grabbing a couple of protein bars and going to the firing range, he wanted to look sharp. He dabbed on some cologne, and walked out the door, winking at the beautiful female figure still asleep in his bed.
Going down the grand staircase, he noticed an area in chaos. He saw Tangent waiting silently, steak knife and fork in hand, his entire torso wrapped in an oversized lobster bib.
TREM noticed his elaborate uniform. "Tangent, it's not dinner, it's bloody breakfast!" Tangent replied with grin on his face. "I treat every meal as dinner."
Snype just stared in disbelief. He immediately went to the kitchen to help out. After all, he liked to cook, and he was damn good at doing it. In the kitchen, it was literally a mess. Pancake batter all over the stove, jam oozing from something that looked like failed crepes, and for some reason, he saw Shade licking everything off the floor.
"What the frak are you doing?"
"Not in that pan! That contains the foie gras!"
Trivia desperately flailed his hands in the air. "These cook bots are useless. I think I messed up on the programming" He put his face in his hands.
Ghanden and Kurofelis burst into the kitchen.
"Where the hell is... oh."
They noticed the enormous mess in the kitchen and went back outside. Fifteen seconds later they came back from the pantry, dressed head to toe in cooking gear. Ghanden had a fancy-ass chef hat on, and Felis got himself a nice (pink) apron. When Snype saw this, he slapped his forehead. "Seems you guys want to help, eh? Well, let's get started."
Felis tackled the pancakes and sausage, Ghanden went for the ommelets. Snype and Trivia went to the cupboard and began handing enormous amounts of ingredients to the robots, which they set on the table.
Snype then busied himself making the foie gras and the caviar dish.
"Uh... Snype?"
"Uh huh?"
"It's breakfast."
"Exactly."
Half an hour later, they finally finished the grand (breakfast) feast. They set the dishes on china, and began carting them away to the breakfast table.
"What the hell took you guys so damn long?" Serf demanded. "Oh my god..."
There were massive amount of dishes streaming out of the kitchen. Plates heaped high with bread, pitchers of apple, orange and grape juice. Steaming piles of pancakes with a gravy boat filled with pure Canadian maple syrup, and stacked beside it was a dish neatly stacked with breakfast sausages. Scrambled eggs, boiled eggs... you name it, they were there. Jars full of jam. Containers of Polish honey and French spreadable cheese. Tall glasses full of fruit shakes. Milk and bottomless bowls of cereal. Waffles and whipped cream, crepes and fruit paste.
Even Putin would be furious with envy.
At the end of the grand feast, everyone signed with joy, stuffed as kings. But then suddenly, everyone on the table collapsed in a deep sleep. Everyone except Ghost, Struass, and Snype.
Snype just looked sheepish. "Come on, it's just a little joke, I put sleeping powder in everyone's drink except you two..."
"And yourself, obviously," remarked Struass, looking unamused.
Snype just stayed silent.
Ghost wordlessly got out his handgun, and blasted Snype in the foot, who crumpled to the floor in pain. "Nothing a little bacta can fix," he said, with a grin on his face.
Just another day in the mafia. Now imagine dinner.
