I'm the personal chef you requested. I got an email two weeks ago saying that I would be cooking for you on this date. Do you have any dinner choices in mind?
It's my mother's birthday. She is... my angel. This dinner should be perfect. Do you understand me?
You think you're better than me? I'll fucking cut your hand off and serve it to your mother for her fucking birthday. I don't give a fuck--
SIR! MY MOTHER IS IN THE OTHER ROOM. PERHAPS... Perhaps you'd like to go and say those hateful words to her face?
