Chef

Carl Casper:
I may not do everything great in my life, but I'm good at this. I manage to touch people's lives with what I do and I want to share this with you. [trailer abridged version]

Riva:
Look, if you bought Stones tickets and Jagger didn't play Satisfaction, how would you feel? Would you be happy?

Carl Casper:
No.

Riva:
No! You'd burn the place to the f***ing ground.

Percy:
Where are we?

Inez:
This is Little Havana.

Percy:
Like in Grand Theft Auto?

Carl Casper:
I'm like a cat playing a piano.

[last lines]

Martin:
Hey! That was a lot of talking and you not punching him. So, what did the a**hole say?

Carl Casper:
I think that a**hole might be our new partner!

Carl Casper:
[excitedly reading Ramsey Michel's review] "Gauloises: Eager to Please. Ten years ago, I had the good fortune to dine at Chef Casper's revelatory Miami bistro, Marrow. The sheer audacity of this fresh, brave voice of the culinary scene reminded me why I write about food as a vocation. It is nearly impossible to separate my glowing regard for Chef Casper and how much he inspired me from my expectations as I sat down to dine at the recently remodeled Brentwood Gallic staple, Gauloises. Oh, how times have changed."

[not so enthused]

Carl Casper:
"Over the last decade, Carl Casper has somehow managed to transform himself from the edgiest chef in Miami to the needy aunt that gives you five dollars every time you see her in hopes that you will like her, but instead causes you to shrink from her cloying embrace which threatens to smother you in her saggy, moist cleavage. The signature app, intended to impress the country club brunch crowd, is the caviar egg. A shirred egg topped with a dollop of caviar is an excuse for the chef to overcharge us for his insecurity and lack of imagination. Carl Casper can be best summed up by the first bite of his needy, and yet, by some miracle, also irrelevant chocolate lava cake. Casper didn't even have the courage to undercook the cake, thus curiously lacking its signature molten center. This sad dessert is emblematic of Carl Casper's disappointing new chapter. His dramatic... weight gain can only be explained by the fact that he must be eating all the... food sent back to the kitchen. Two stars."

Percy:
[sets up a Twitter account for Carl] Okay. So, what do you want your username to be?

Carl Casper:
Carl.

Percy:
You can't just put "Carl". It's got to be "at" something.

Carl Casper:
At Carl Casper.

Percy:
At Carl Casper. Taken.

Carl Casper:
Somebody took my name?

Percy:
At Chef Carl Casper? Is that cool?

Carl Casper:
Yeah, that's good.

Percy:
At Chef Carl Casper.

Carl Casper:
So is this for sex?

Percy:
Ew. No. Is that what you're doing this for?

Carl Casper:
No, I'm not doing it for that. Someone wrote something bad. I wanna see what they wrote.

Percy:
Good. Oh, sh*t.

Carl Casper:
Hey! You can't talk like that. I don't care if mommy's not around. I don't want you cursing around here.

Percy:
That review went viral.

Carl Casper:
What does that mean?

Percy:
It means it got picked up and re-tweeted everywhere.

Carl Casper:
So, all these people have read the review?

Percy:
Yeah.

Carl Casper:
Oh, sh*t.

Percy:
Dad?

Carl Casper:
Yeah.

Percy:
You got 1,653 followers since last night.

Carl Casper:
Oh, is that good?

Percy:
It's amazing.

Carl Casper:
Oh, good. What does it mean?

Percy:
It means that 1,653 people are reading your Twitter feed.

Carl Casper:
Mmm-hmm. I thought it was like texting.

Percy:
Did you post anything since last night?

Carl Casper:
No.

Percy:
Are you sure?

Carl Casper:
Yeah, I just sent a private message to somebody.

Percy:
To who?

Carl Casper:
To that a-hole food critic.

Percy:
You can only send private messages to people who are following you. I think you might have posted that publicly.

Carl Casper:
No, he wrote something nasty about me and then I hit "reply" and it let me send a message to him.

Percy:
Dad, replies are public. Everybody can read them. And it looks like he re-tweeted it to all his 123,845 followers. And he wrote back.

Carl Casper:
What did he say?

Percy:
I don't think I should read it.

Carl Casper:
Just... can you read it to me, please? Read the... read the reply.

Percy:
[sighs] "At Chef Carl Casper, I would rather have you sit on my face after a brisk walk on a warm day than suffer through that f***ing lava cake again."

Carl Casper:
He wrote that to me?

Percy:
He wrote it to everybody.

Martin:
Whose Bacon is this?

Martin:
Huh?

Martin:
I gotta watch this too?

Martin:
When I found out you better grab your ankles! Cuz here comes Papi Chulo

Martin:
Here you go, little man. [Hands Percy a bottle of beer]

Percy:
Are you sure? Is this beer?

Martin:
No, of course not, I would never hand you beer. That's *cerveza*.

Percy:
I'm 10, I can't have beer.

Martin:
You're not 10! You're kitchen staff, kitchen staff doesn't have an age.

Percy:
Dad?

Carl Casper:
You can have a sip. [Percy takes a sip from the bottle and makes a disgusted face] Huh? Like piss, right?

Percy:
Worse!

Carl Casper:
You remember that when your friends offer you a beer.

Percy:
What are you doing?

Martin:
Dude, I'm putting a little cornstarch on my huevos, man. It's a little too humid down here.

Percy:
Dad, wake up. Martin's putting cornstarch on his balls.

Carl Casper:
Want some? It's like baby powder. It's nice, right?

Percy:
Nice.

Tony:
You're trending bro.

Martin:
F*** Twitter. Come on, get out of here.

Carl Casper:
[passing around the corn starch] Want some? Here, it's like baby powder. Cool your nuts... It's nice, right?

Percy:
Nice.

Carl Casper:
What's good is, in the morning, you can dip your nuts in oil and make hush puppies.

Ramsey Michel:
You started a flame-war with *me*. Are you kidding me, I buy ink by the barrel, buddy. What are you doing picking a fight with me? I wouldn't challenge you to a cook-off.

[last lines]

Ramsey Michel:
I just thought you and me bury-the-hatchet would be a good story. Reservations out the door. More importantly, you know, you just cook your ass off. In the meantime, you just tweet me where ever you are, and I'll come running. 'Cause this sh*t's good. All right? Delicious. Delicioso. Mucho goodo... [walks away]

Martin:
Hey hemet, that was a lot of talkin' and you not punching him. So what did the a**hole say, huh?

Carl Casper:
That a**hole might be our new partner.