Note: since I can't write what the chef is saying and have the story make sense, you'll have to read his work I'm English.
Everyone knows the Swedish Chef, and his cooking skills, but no one knows where he first picked them up. Well, this is the never been told story:
Ever since the chef was three, he loved to help his parents with the meals.
Once he reached the age of 13, his father had an idea.
"Son?" He called out.
The young Swedish Chef came over to his parents.
"Yes papa?" He asked.
The Swedish Chef's father handed him a pamphlet.
"Son, your mother and I have decided to send you to a cooking school. Here you will learn how to make great things, and you can cook dinner for us."
The Swedish Chef was so excited he started bouncing up and down.
With that, it was decided and the Swedish Chef was sent to the cooking school.
It was a fairly big building, lots of floors, and a big field outside.
After looking in awe, he chef managed to head inside, and find his first destination: the entry level class. Here, he would have to have a one on one lesson to determine how good he was and whether or not he deserved to be taught in the hallowed halls of their prestigious school.
Finding his classroom, he opened the door and went in. A tall prim looking woman was inside.
"Ah, you must be my student for the entrance class."
The chef nodded.
"Well." She began, "just so you know, I take cooking seriously. Any messing around in here, you will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
The chef nodded.
"I will give you instructions, and you are to follow them. Understood?"
The chef nodded.
"Splendid." The woman said "I am Mrs. Morrow, the head of the class. You shall be making an apple pie. Let's get started. First, you'll need, a dish."
The chef searched around the room.
He hadn't been paying attention to what Mrs. Morrow said, so he was lost.
Finally, he found what he was looking for and pulled out... A fish.
Mrs. Morrow had her back turned, so she didn't see what he had.
"Crack an egg into it." She added.
The chef cracked an egg and threw the contents, shells included, into it's mouth.
"Now, flour."
The chef reached into a pocket and pulled out a young rose. He put the rose into the mouth like it was a vase.
Finally, Mrs. Morrow turned around.
"What is that?" She demanded.
"Fish, egg..." The chef began.
"No!" Mrs. Morrow snapped. "DISH! Not FISH!"
The chef tossed the mess away and pulled out a bowl.
In no time, he was able to make the batter.
Looking out the window, while he waited for his next order, he decided to do what his parents did while cooking. Clearing his throat, he began to sing:
"Yorn desh born, der ritt de gitt der gue,
Orn desh, dee born desh, de umn bork! bork! bork!"
"Put a sock in it!" Mrs. Morrow snapped.
Looking confused, he shrugged, took off a sock and threw it in the batter.
Luckily for him, Mrs. Morrow didn't notice. Instead, she had him pour everything into a pan and put it in the oven.
"Now, turn on the oven." She said.
The chef's response was to jump on the oven and start spinning in circles.
Mrs. Morrow looked up and her eyes narrowed.
"Get down!" She cried.
Smirking, the Chef began to do every dance he knew.
"Get off the oven." She snarled.
The chef got off the oven and managed to get the pie cooking. When the pie was finished, he pulled it out.
"Now, the taste marks." Mrs. Morrow said, "the pie, let me have it."
The chef looked at the pie in his hand, then shrugged. He tossed the pie in her face.
"Expelled!" Mrs. Morrow snapped, wiping the food away. "You are expelled!"
The chef turned and ran.
"You are not cut out to be in the food industry!" She screamed.
But you know and I know, the Swedish Chef went on to do great things, and made lots of great food... So who's laughing now, Mrs. Morrow?