Gordon Ramsay Visits My Lemonade Stand

the L word

"Lemonade, fresh lemonade, 25 cents for a cup!" I, tiny little 6 year old boy, squeal to passers by on this hot June day.
"Why, aren't you adorable," some lady comes up to my citrus juice establishment. "Did you make this all by yourself?" She points to the cardboard sign that says 'LƎMOИADE'.

"Yes ma'm!" I squeal. "Cup of lemonade 25 cents?"
"I'd love some," she says and hands me three dimes. "And there's an extra nickel for you!"
"Boy golly a nickel! Thank you ma'm," I, small business entrepreneur, exclaim.

SCREAMING VIOLIN STINGER NOISE

Wait what was that?! Where did that sound even come from??

A MAN approaches... Tall... WILD unkempt yet styled hair.... wow this man must be so thirsty. His crumpled forehead is like a Nevada dirt road. This is the driest man on the planet.

"Now what the fuck am I looking at here.... my God," this kitcheneer from hell disgusts at my lemonade stand.
"...lemonade, sir..?" I tremble. "25 cents for a cu-
"Are you trying to sell me RAT PISS?! What kind of PRESENTATION is this? Just LOOK at it!" angry British man holds up my lemonade jug and starts snapping his fingers in front of me little boy face. "Are you even TRYING? Unbe-FUCKING-lievable..." he cusses, inches from my face. My vision is an endless canyon of forehead crevices. "How long has this place been running?!"
"Since this morning sir"
"You're lucky the FDA hasn't shut this imconpetent shit show down yet... is this the FUCKIN' menu?!" he screams at my 'LƎMOИADE" sign.
"Yes?"
"What a fucking disastah..... Well I guess we'll go with the 'lemonade' then, huh" and he folds his big arms and shakes his bigger head. "Good God...."

I take the jug in my short little boy hands and start pouring juice in a paper cup-

"How LONG are you going to keep the customers waiting? What is HAPPENING?!" the large wrinkled man scares the jeebies out of me. "Whythefuck is NOTHING coming out of the kitchen??! Have you given up? Is that it? Huh? TALK TO ME!! Where is the communication, you AMATEUR?"

BWWWWWOOOHMMMM...... a huge ominous riser sound effect bwoohms through the neighborhood. Seriously what's the deal with all these dramatic noises

"3 seconds to service, chef" I respond full of cold dead fear.
"Good GOD"
I shakingly give this culinary Satan the cup. "One lemonade, chef."

He sniffs. "Were these lemons properly seasoned?"

I'm a 6 year old boy and I don't know what that means

"Presentation HORRIBLE... smells BLAND... served COLD... what a nightmare..."
Now he takes tiny little sip and straight away SPITS it back in my hair.

"this is RAW LEMONADE! YOU F U C K I N G  DONKEY!"
"But-"
"Is this a JOKE to you?!"
"No chef"
"I've had enough of your fuckups this service! Do you WANT to go home?!?"
"I live right there chef" I gesture to the house behind us.
"shut the FUCK up"

Now the fuming chef takes a bite from the paper cup. "Where's the TASTE, you fool? Didn't even use SALT?! For FUCK's saaaaaake!" exasperated he screams.
"Chef you are not supposed to ea-"
He yanks down my carboard 'LƎMOИADE' sign. "Who the fuck's going to eat THAT?! Oi, donkey! Touch that— feel that right there"
"Feels like cardboard chef"
"FFFFFFUCKIN RAW in the middle! Undercooked, you useless piece of SHIT!"

He grabs my mom's lemonade jug and flipin' SMASHES it through the windshield of my parents' 2014 Ford Focus.

"We're fucking done here. Give me your jacket."
"But that's my-"
"GIVEMEYOURFUCKINGJACKET."
"y-y-yes chef"

And the infuriated British master chef stomps away from me. Thank the lord.

Just when I think the coast's clear.... another man walks towards me. Oh please make it stop.
"Sorry we're closed!" I hastily yell.

"Hey there big boy," the man says to me. "that lemonade looks terrific. I'll give you a dollar for a cup, alright champ?"
I hand this kind man a lemonade. "Delicious!" he says with kind smile.
He signs me a check for a dollar and winks.

Signed,
Gordon Ramsay

"Also, I saw that you just met Jamie Oliver," says Gordon. "That guy can be a real handful."