You have a faux-hawk and you wear concert shirts for bad boy rock bands like AC/DC and Stone Temple Pilots that you bought at a department store and you say fuck a lot when talking to your staff and you enjoy the drug cocaine.
When your restaurant closes you ride a motorcycle to restaurants owned by other bad boy chefs and you and the other bad boy chefs drink all night and talk about the busy nights you had cooking food for people as if they were bar fights you got into but really all you were doing was cooking food for people.
Like moms do.
You and the other bad boy chefs talk about waitresses you fucked in your respective restaurants’ bathrooms none of you letting on that all you did was grope waitresses in your respective restaurants’ bathrooms because when it came time to fuck the drug cocaine prevented you from maintaining erections.
Sometimes your asthma acts up.
You like to talk to waiters as if you were telling them how the world works and how if they want to make it in this world they’d better do what you say because you’re the baddest bad boy chef in the whole city but then the waiters quit to pursue their futures because it was just a job serving people food anyway and when you find out they quit you remember all you do is cook food.
You get scared on your motorcycle so you don’t ride it very much.
Happy You’re A Bad Boy Chef Day!
