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"You no like me coffee?" He scrunches his thick brow as his ash falls in the stew pot. "I've got guud stuff here." He waves his cleaver and large two prong fork around. "Plenty guud ingredients, " He whacks down looping off the fish head. "You no cookie... you out...out!" The cleaver with fish scales clinging to it waves frantically in the air.
"Throw'd guud fuud at me, see what I do. Not apreec'ted, no I'm not. Woke up early and coooooked and t'put hot oats for everyone. Whatcha old cookie git...fuud thrown'd right back at me. You see what I do wit yer bowl, yes sir'ee. I knows, I knows." Chop chop, pound pound sounds can be heard coming from the galley. An occassional squawk and mumbling. "fix'em guud fuud fer dinner yes, precious no grateful crew they'd be. Me fix'em guud fuud, me tries real hard." The smell of onions and garlic is strong. The cook himself, Cookie, is chopping away with a long cigarette with a hot amber is dangling from his mouth. "Not like I 'ave much 'elp don 'ere anyway."
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