Daddy Spice (Murray Has A Cooking Show)

Slay

"Nance, I'm going to need you to hold the camera steady," Murray advised, tying his quilted apron over his Karate gi. Because good cooking waits for no one.

"I am holding the camera steady-" Nancy started.

"Hold. It. STEADY!" he snapped.

"Why don't I hold the camera-" Jonathan got up to take the camera from Nancy, but Murray shoved him back onto the couch.

"You have spaghetti noodles for arms. And my prodigy is the only one who can fully capture all of'a this. " Murray struck a pose. "Now, CLAP FOR ME!"
Jonathan stared at Nancy, who just shrugged. Jonathan slowly started to clap, and Murray's chest puffed out proudly.
"Yes..." he breathed, rubbing his hands together.

"So who watches this exactly?"

"I'll have you know that the HOA pays top dollar for my American cuisine secrets-" he took a swig of vodka and slid it towards Nancy. "Now, focus on my hands. And keep the camera steady."

"Yes sir," Nancy grumbled. "And we are rolling."
Murray took a deep breath and flashed the camera a dazzling smile... even though his hands were the only things visible.

"Hey there everyone, my name is Murray Bauman. But you all can call me Daddy Spice ."

Nancy and Johnathan both made a face at that.

"Today, we're going to be making Daddy's world-famous risotto, I've heard that it even makes the Russians want to change sides!" he cackled at his own joke, and Nancy and Jonathan nervously laughed with him. "Now, you're going to need one pinch of salt in this frying pan because if you put more than one pinch I swear on your god damn mother that it's going to taste like GARBAGE!"

"...Your apron's on fire." Nancy pointed out.

"Thank you for that," Murray said through gritted teeth, slowly taking off the apron and stomping it out. "You know what, never mind. Never fucking mind. Nobody will EVER get to taste my famous risotto!"
"...So you'll help us?"
"With what?"
"Our college applications?"
"College is-"
"And PLEASE don't go on about the government again." Jonathan pleaded.

Murray's brow furrowed, and he sighed. "You become a revolutionary investigative journalist, all you wanna do is self produce your own cooking show and now I get stuck advising an idiot-"
"Which one's the idiot?" Jonathan asked.

"And the one who's after my job."

"...So we're picking favorites-"
"Yes Jonathan, yes I'm picking favorites. Now, Nance, there's something you need to know about freelance journalism because I know that you got that internship for those idiots at Hawkins Post, but let's be honest. They won't be able to handle you. And that's a good thing. You still have the guns that I got you, right?"

"Of course I do," Nancy answered, pulling out a revolver from her purse.

"I'm so proud." Murray breathed, tearing up.