Chef Linguini! Chef Linguini!
Your rise has been meteoric, and yet you have no formal training.
What is the secret to your genius?
I’m Auguste Gusteau’s son. It’s in my blood, I guess.
But you weren’t aware of that fact until very recently–
–and it resulted in your taking ownership of this restaurant. How
did you find out?
Some part of me just knew…
(lamely, trying it out)
…the Gusteau part…?
Where do you get your inspiration?
Inspiration has many names. Mine is named Colette.
Something stuck in my teeth.
I wish to report a rat infestation.
It’s taken over my restauran– er– Gusteau’s restaurant–!
Gusteau’s, eh? I can drop by.
(consults appointment log)
First opening is… three months.
It must happen now!
Monsieur, I have the information, if someone cancels I’ll slot you
But… but the rat, it–
–stole my documents…
It’s past opening time.
He should’ve finished an hour ago.
Bon jour, Mon Cherie. Join us. We were talking about my inspiration-
Yes, he calls it his “tiny Chef”…
Not that, dearest… I meant you.
You are Monsieur Linguini?
Pardon me for interrupting your… premature celebration. But I
thought it only fair to give you a sporting chance as you are new to this game.
Yes. And you’ve been playing without an opponent. Which is, as you
may have guessed, against the rules.
You’re Anton Ego.
You’re slow for someone in the fast lane.
> in the fast lane：競争の激しい生活
And you’re thin for someone who likes food.
I don’t “like” food, I love it. If I don’t love it, I don’t– swallow.
I will return tomorrow night with high expectations. Pray you don’t disappoint me.
Listen, we hate to be rude, but… we’re French. And it’s dinner time.
She meant to say “it’s dinner time, and we’re French”–!