A fanfic that was born through an english assignment. My stories tend to mention many other series for the sake of humoring my friends and anyone else who know about them. The Swedish Chef is property of Jim Henson
All characters mentioned belong to their respective owners (the only one I own is Nyo and her family and the antagonist)
in the event that I break any rules on , please let me know so that I may fix whatever I did as soon as I can
Ah, the train station; its been a while since I've been to one of these. Normally Mom, Dad, my big brother, and I take a plane when we move somewhere around the world for the thousandth time. It get hard to make friends when we move frequently. It was pretty fun when we lived in Japan for a while. I actually got to do something that religious people almost always try to do: I met God. I shit you not. Now I know why people say the don't believe because the ask why God would let all the bad things that happen happen. Well here's why, God doesn't even know that she's God, or even that she has any powers at all. She's not even benevolent, in fact she's a bipolar, bisexual, psychopathic control freak with a bad case of OCD. I feel sorry for two of her 'subordinates.' One of they is stuck doing all the manual labor while the other one get sexually harassed on a daily basis. Oh yeah, before I forget, my name is (train whistle blows making her name impossible to hear), but all my friends call me Nyo for some reason which I assume is a parody of something.
"Hey, hurry up or you'll be left behind." I hear my mom call. "OK, coming" I yell back as I dart past a family if redheads and a boy with a scar talking about some platform with a mixed number. What the-!? Did that locomotive have a FACE!? No, it was just a trick of the light (I hope). Please don't tell me that Haruhi (God) flipped through the TV and caught even so much as a glimpse of Thomas the Tank Engine. Oh well, I'll let her henchman-uh, I mean club members/cult deal with it, I need to get on the train before it leaves without me.
Thankfully I managed to catch the train literally seconds before it began to depart from the station. Moving right along (ironically the name of the song currently playing on my iPod) I guess it can be said that for once I'm happy to be traveling. My last school was nothing but a daycare center with morons for students and incompetent staff located in Illinois. We moved to England a little while ago and are now on the traveling again, but thankfully we aren't moving this time. We just happen to be going to some rural town who's name I can't remember ( I think it was called Resembool [I hear they have a great prosthetic shop]) that has a famous restaurant that my parents want to try out. As I watch the world go by through the window of the train I can't help but feel like I'm being watched. Looking around I see some brooding dude stare at people for a while then look elsewhere. He looks like as dark as a black hole in the middle of a field of white holes. I don't understand my own metaphors, either. Hey, emo-dude, cry me a river, build a bridge, then either get over it or drown yourself (not that I would say that out loud). I'm putting too much thought into this guy, better listen to the 13th Anthology or maybe Decisive Battle version 2.
A few hours later the train arrived at its destination and we all got out. It wasn't a long walk to the restaurant, only a few minutes. Oh great, the emo-dude who screamed antagonist was here as well. At least the restaurant was nice and clean. I could hear the Chef singing in the kitchen. It was some sort of gibberish that reminds me of mock-Swedish ending in either "Mort-mort-mort" or "Bork-bork-bork" followed by the sound of something crashing and, was that an EXPLOSION!? I could hear the chef, obviously unhurt, talk to himself and prepare to start making more food. On second thought, maybe this isn't the best restaurant after all. My parents looked mortified (maybe this was worth the trip just to see the look on their faces) and I could hear the emo/antagonist-dude complaining about incompetence of the modern world and all of its features.
Once the waitress arrived I ordered some Swedish meatballs and an iced tea. For some reason my gut told me to keep an eye on the emo-dude, who ordered the spring chicken. A few minutes later I saw the chef come out of the kitchen. He looked somewhat like a puppet, the type Jim Henson would come up with. He was carrying a large ice sculpture of a caramel colored lower-case T and set it in front of me. Guess he has a sick sense of humor. He places a plate with nothing on it in front of me and when I asked him where my meatballs were (at this point I'm a little afraid to know) and all he replies is, "iz a beency-bouncy burger." and darts back into the kitchen, grabs a tennis racket and hits the meatballs onto my plate. I hear an old man yell, "15-Love!" and laugh with his buddy about their joke. I can't take it anymore! The combined random and humorous events cause me to break out laughing harder then I ever laughed before. As it turns out my drink was inside the T and needed to consumed before the ice melts. I can't wait to see what happens to the emo-dude.
It took a while for me to stop laughing, and once I did I couldn't help but stare at the antagonist-dude while grinning. As I saw the Chef come out of the kitchen with a large pot and proceed towards the antagonist, my whole world became just the two of them and the large pot. I simply Can't believe my eyes! A LIVE chicken poked its head out of the pot. The chef was trying to get it jump out the pot it's sitting it, but it was refusing to comply. The chef marches into the kitchen to grab a wooden spoon for some reason I want to figure out. He comes back to the pot and once the chicken sees the spoon it dives into the pot to take cover. My new favorite cook swings the spoon like a baseball bat into the side of the pot, sending the chicken inside flying out as if it was spring loaded. Now I know why it's called spring chicken. I almost felt sorry for the poor poultry, but it was just to funny to make me feel bad for it. What happened next was even more amazing, funny, and defies the laws of physics. Chicken after chicken came flying out of the pot. JUST HOW MANY CHICKENS DID HE STUFF IN THERE!? Great, just when I stopped laughing I start doing it again.
After the flow of chickens stopped coming and the chef ran off chasing them with a meat cleaver poor old Mr. Antagonist stormed out to the restaurant fuming and ranting something about taking on those who mocked him. A feel my brother tap me on the shoulder. As I turn to him he joke, "Hey Sis, why did the chickens cross the road?" "Because an angry Swede is chasing them with a cleaver!" I joke back. I hope that Mr. Antagonist doesn't do anything drastic, or that I ever have to see him again.
Just as we were getting ready to head back home guess who shows up. That's right, Mr. Antagonist is back and he's packing heat. This can't end well. "Alright, listen up!" he announces to everyone in the restaurant, "I have been mocked too much through out my life, so as revenge I shall kill that idiot chef and every person who ever laughed at me!" Uh oh. He walks toward the kitchen doors before turning in my direction. Bring me my brown pants! Fortunately for me the chef decided to poke his head out from the kitchen, look at the antagonist, and hit him over the head, knocking him out cold while the chickens poked him to death. OK, that's enough, I'm passing out on the ride home. You know what, I'll do it now too. After I regained consciousness we rode the train home and I slept the whole way back.