Killer Kitchen...

No, no ...says Claude, chef supreme

You whip, not beat, the whipping cream

You hand should make circles, you clumsy oaf

Your technique, stale whole wheat, an un-cut loaf
 

He can't take the abuse, from this candy-pants chef

It's late,  the other students, all have left

Killer smiles now, for first time that day

Now we're going... to do it my way
 

Lemon-bouillon bubbling, it's really hot

Claude's hand is au-bleu... held in the pot

His screams, as fingers curl and turn blue

Are part of Killer's recipe too
 

Tired of Claude's ego, so very big

Killer thinks of making a meal of " Long-pig"

A slice with a blade, shortens Claude's life

Killer admires... the edge on this knife
 

There must be no waste, no evidence left

No trace of Claude the supreme, the master-chef

Killer plans courses, mouth-watering delights

From aperitif, to dessert, he works through the night
 

He chops and cooks, and he filets strips of flank

Roasting and basting, Chef Claude's double shanks

Onions and garlic, he makes bouillon for dipping

Blood thinned with white wine, for the guests to be sipping
 

A sangria au' Killer, he just made it up

Something he'd serve, in a porcelin-white cup

Trussing the forearms, to the ribs stuffed and baked,

He started dessert, an elaborate cake
 

Sugar blended blood-icing, for it's decor

Beaten, not whipped... not Claude's way, for sure

The early-bell is ringing, let the party begin

Chef Claude has left us, Killer says with a grin
 

I have taken control... taken his place

You can't leave my party, without a smile on your face

The students love Killer, they think he's great

Killer can't wait.... 'till they all graduate