A pair of children, a brother and sister, sit at the breakfast table, enjoying a bowl of…

Dom Durango’s Sugar-Blasted Spaghetti Flakes!

The brother raises his spoon with a smile.

”It tastes like the old country…”

“But with sugar!”

But… what’s this?!?

CHEERLEADER CINDY AND LUCHADOR LARRY BURST THROUGH THE WINDOW!

”Hey kids! We’re here to STEAL YOUR CEREAL!”

”Pero no porque yo soy Mexicano y mexicanos son ladrónes! Eso es un estereotipo!”

”Oh no! He’s speaking spanish at us!”

”Won’t someone save our breakfast?!?”

…

The girl looks at the camera, unsure how to proceed…

”I said… Won’t someone save our breakfast?!?”

…

The intercom on the set sparks.

”Dom, that’s your cue!”

Dom Durango!

…Quietly steps on stage.

Not through the back door.

He just… wanders onto the set, making the whole production look cheap.

”What?”

…The Brother clears his throat!

”Whoooooa! Dom Durango! Of Dom Durango’s Sugar-Blasted Spaghetti Flakes!”

…

Dom coughs.

”Yup.”

The intercom buzzes again.

”Um… Dom? Aren’t you gonna do the voice?”

”What the f is happening in this commercial again?”

Brother and Sister cover each other’s ears from the profanity!

”It’s a breakfast cereal commercial! The two wacky cartoon characters want to steal the cereal from the children and YOU stop them!”

…

Dom squints at Cheerleader Cindy and Luchador Larry.

”Why are you two stealing cereal from children?”

Cheerleader Cindy clears her throat, trying to get things back on track… ”W-well, because Dom Durango’s Sugar-Blasted Spaghetti Flakes are packed with Marinara Marshmallows! Meatball that won’t get soggy in milk! An-”

”Then, go buy a fing box.”

…

Brother coughs uncomfortably…

[b]”Um… Maybe we should cut and try again?”

”Why? Do you think a second take with these garbage concepts is gonna fix anything? It’s a sh commercial, selling a sh product for sh people to shove down these fetid, festering gobs.”

…

Dom glances back at the set, seeing the stove.

”Is that stove real?”

Before anyone can answer, Dom moves to the stove… and flips the switch.

The flame comes on.

”...I’m gonna cook a steak right now.”

”Um… Mister Durango, we should follow the script! This production is on a budg-”

”Don’t tell me about my fing budget right now.” Dom throws open the freezer, retrieving a raw steak. ”Fing mascots and cereal all to peddle this god awful food…”

Dom reaches under the cabinet for the oil, laying some in the pan.

”It’s all tasteless.”

“I haven’t been able to taste anything since…”

…Dom stops.

”Since Gravy shoved those grits from Satan’s ahole down my throat.”

Dom carefully pans the steak…

“I’ve tried Italian, Korean, Korean-Italian fusion, Mexican, Indian… every flavor of my culinary empire.”

“And it all turns to ash and sulfur against my palate.”

Dom flicks his wrist, flipping the steak.

”Ay! Muy bien!” Larry Luchador marvels, impressed.

…Dom slowly turns toward him.

…Larry gulps. ”Ah… lo siento, señor Durango.”

”Hey… come here a sec. I wanna show you something.”

”Actually…” Dom then points to Cheerleader Cindy as well “I’d like to show you both something.”

Cindy bites her lip. ”Um… actually, I think I wanna g-”

”The secret…” Dom flips the steak again, adjusting the pan to let it sizzle. ”To a good steak. Is timing.”

”Not patience.”

“Timing.”

“Get the difference?”

…

”Patience… is waiting. A moment that simply… comes. And once that moment arrives, you’ve succeeded.”

“Timing. Means striking when the moment is nigh. Not before. Not after.”

…

”I killed my mother for this empire.”

”...Well. Not my birth mother. But the only woman who ever cared for me.”

…

”You know, I could never get her recipes *exactly* right.”

“…The Culinary Cabal wanted Mama’s dishes. And I thought I could deliver.”

“I had her recipes… Her kitchen.”

“But something was missing.”

“I could tell from the taste.”

“I used basil from her garden… added the spices just like she’d showed me…”

“But it wasn’t HER food.”

“And no matter what I did… that missing piece eluded me.”

…

”So. I resorted to… buffoonery.”

“Cartoon mascots.”

“Fake Italian accent.”

“I lacked substance, so I overcompensated with style.”

“I buried my failings under a veneer of sugar additives and schlock. An-”

Dom stops suddenly.

”Steak’s done.”

He quickly turns off the heat and plates the dish… leaving the hot oily pan on the stove.

He holds the plate up to the Luchador, slicing off a bite.

”Here. Taste.”

…Larry swallows nervously.

He pinches it off the plate.

He chews it.

As Dom reaches backwards for the pan…

”Es… mmmm… muy sabroso, señor Durango!”

”I wouldn’t know.”

WHAM! Dom SMACKS the Luchador over the skull with the hot pan!

His face is SEARED!

Larry grasps at his mask to rip it off… but the heat melted it to his skin!

”AHHHHHH! WHAT THE F-”

Dom grabs Cheerleader Cindy’s by her skull!

And SLAMS HER FACE INTO THE PAN! HOLDING IT THERE!

She squeals, her feet desperately kicking, wildly thrashing!

The entire production crew runs in panic!

…Finally, she stops thrashing, collapsing to the set floor…

…Leaving Dom alone.

”...A chef without a sense of taste.”

“Is nothing.”

“I’ll never recreate Mama’s recipe now.”

“Micheal Graves took that from me.”

“I have… nothing left.”

…Dom sits at the table with his barely-touched steak.

”So. I have nothing left to lose.”

“All I want...”

“Is to hurt people who remind me of what I once was.”

“Silly luchadors who bring their ugly wives and whining brats to their interviews.”

“Braindead blondes chanting letters to convince people to cheer.”

“Cartoons.”

“Caricatures.”

…

”I’m not waiting any longer. The time is now.”

“I’m done pretending to be something I’m not.”

“I’m not… Chef-ah Durango! From-ah the old country!”

“I’m Dom.”

“And I’m here to feel something.”

“By hurting everyone else.”

…Dom stands up. And starts walking off-set…

Luchador Larry is moaning and weeping on the ground.

WHAM! Dom kicks him in the stomach.

”Consider breakfast saved.”