Chapter Text
[The shot opens on the interior of a lavish kitchen. Rosario Salazar is sitting on a bar stool, watching a small TV. Will Truman enters]
WILL: Oh, hey, Rosie. I need to have a word with Pastry Chef.
ROSARIO: Not right now, I’m watching my telenovella.
WILL: Funny, there’s a crucifix behind every piece of furniture…
ROSARIO: The twist is, both the mother and the daughter are whores.
[Rosario leaves the room. Pastry Chef enters, carrying a sack of flour and lugging it onto the kitchen counter]
PASTRY CHEF: Can I help you?
WILL: Dear God, tell me you’re not Pastry Chef!
PASTRY CHEF: Yeah, I’m Edward. Forgive the appearance, I don’t like to be constrained by clothing while I bake. If the health department would let me, I’d bake in the nude.
WILL: Maybe you should send the health department a picture, they might make an exception…
[The shot cuts to the interior of an office with desk cubicles, and pans to a woman with a bored expression ripping open an envelope and pulling out a form, and a small photo falls out and her eyes widen]
WOMAN: Oh my god!