Ratatouille - Unforgiven
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. It belongs to Pixar and Walt Disney :D
A thin, wrinkled newspaper flittered across the newly paved sidewalk. The edges damp caused by the rainstorm that had ended only a few hours before. As the paper danced across the busy streets, a hand quickly but cautiously picked it up before anymore damaged could be caused to it.
The hand, dirty and thin, smoothed out it's surface on the stranger's lap. Eyes quickly scanned across the bled ink; making out most of the words. The front headline read, "Chef Linguini. A Fake?"
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"Hm, hmm, hm…" the man hummed to himself. His left hand rotated around a soapy stainless-steel pot while his opposite hand held it. He leaned over, placed the pot to his right and grabbed another one. This one had a thin ganache coated on it's inside. As he dried the dry food off the dishes he continued to hum his own tunes.
Beside him sat a little grey rat. It was small enough to be mistaken for a mouse but it's distinct features made it obvious that it was infact, a rat. It glanced up at the man, it's small beady eyes beaming as he finished his last piece of gouda.
"Hey little chef…" The man said slowly. "I think it's time you and me head back to the house. That is…if you want to." The rat thought for a moment, sitting there in silence, and then slowly gave a nod and what looked to be a smile. The man smiled back in a goofy, crooked way. His teeth showing from slightly parted lips,
"Alright, let's go." He held out his right hand, palm up and open, fingers extended. The rat hopped into it while his left hand lifted up his garbo revealing messy, maroon locks of hair. The hair had a thin dent in it caused from hat head and long hours of work. He raised the rat up, placed it gently on his head, then replaced the garbo upon him, adjusting itself back in the dent that circled his scalp.
Now, it wasn't everyday you saw a person with a pet rat in this occupation. In fact, it was probably an insult to some chef. But not only was this rat a pet, but it was his friend - a team mate. It helped him get through the work life and it even earned him a decent relationship with a French speaking girl named Colette. But, as word got out there was a rat helping in the kitchen, business started to shut down, jobs were lost, and relationships were just too much to handle. Although this sounds bad it was really quite fine for this young eager chef. He managed to support a family restaurant named "Ratatouille"; keeping it up and running. Not only that but he stayed close friends to brunette girl who once stood by his side. The only reason she left is because she had more experience with cooking and she expected that the knowledge she gained would only enter a 5-star restaurant. Other than that, the young chef and his partner agreed that life was pretty good.
The man walked down the street. He turned the corner, crossed the intersection, and walked 3 blocks down. This was a daily routine for him. If he had to, he could probably walk down it with his eyes shut. The only problem would be while he's crossing the intersection. Is the light green? Is it red? Although it wasn't often that he had to stop.
"Linguini!!" A voice yelled out from behind. The voice was deep but seemed friendly. He turned around to see a larger man waving a baguette at him. "I have not seen you in a while." The man had a thick French accent. Possibly making it hard for a traveler to understand him.
Oh, hello Monsieur Marchand." Said Linguini, giving a polite wave. "How are you today?" Monsieur Marchand worked at the local bakery. He inherited it from his father's father and it was known to be there for atleast seventy years. This was where the old 5-star restaurant "Gusteau" would get some of their bread. The rest was created by the chefs.