I Will Fix Antoni From ‘Queer Eye’, For I Am a Lesbian Chef Warrior

Come, adventurers, gather ’round the fire, for I’ve a tale to tell. When the world cried out for heroes…queer heroes…queeros, the Fab 5 answered the call. But then some folks had questions…queer questions…queerstions, only one warrior was brave enough to get the answers. For she is THE LESBIAN CHEF WARRIOR! Her job? To protect the people & flavor profiles that need it most!

The Lesbian Chef Warrior climbs atop the Great Rock of Queerness. She’s dressed in an armored apron and wields a meat cleaver like a battle ax. She calls down to the villagers below.

FRIENDS, NEIGHBORS, AND EXES IT’S STILL COMPLICATED WITH, HEAR ME. Send forth the one called Antoni from ‘Queer Eye’.  

The Lesbian Chef Warrior spots Antoni in the crowd. She scales down the Great Rock of Queerness using only her agility, core strength, and a lobster fork as a climbing pick. She approaches Antoni with the bravado of a lion hunting a wounded gazelle.

Brother Antoni, you are beautiful and charming. You have the sensitive eyes of a young Chloe Sevigny. I adore you. But this masquerade will not stand. My tribe has read your recent New York Times profile in which you defend your cooking abilities, and it was the final straw. I’m here to proclaim the truth; your margs are flavorless, your reliance on Dijon mustard is abhorrent, and your designer shoes aren’t kitchen safe. YOU DISHONOR US!

The Lesbian Chef Warrior backhands Antoni across the face. The crowd gasps.

I can tell just by looking at your soft, pillowy hands that you know nothing of life in the kitchen. I’ve watched my own flesh bubble and rot after hideous deep fryer accidents. I’ve completed the perfect salad prep as a fat, sweaty straight man screamed in my face about the quality of the endive, to which I replied: “Thank you, Chef!” Because. I. Am. A. Soldier.

I’ve dedicated hours upon hours to my craft. I’ve worked double shifts. I’ve worked triple shifts. I once worked twenty-four hours straight with only one smoke break, and then went directly to perform with my all-lesbian chef improv team, The Amuse Bouche.


…And you call yourself a chef?

The Lesbian Chef Warrior spits on the ground.

You’re barely a cook, Brother Antoni. But on this day, I shall right this fabulously moisturized wrong.

Atoni attempts to speak, but the Lesbian Chef Warrior shoves a piece of cured ham into his mouth before he can utter a word.

Hush! Indulge in my sumptuous charcuterie while I explain how we’re going to handle your indigestible injustice. Come with me. I’m offering to become your greatest teacher. The labor will be vigorous and the only hair product you’ll have access to is sweat.

But when we’re through, you’ll have the fortitude to boil the bones of your enemies into a tasty remouillage. Your parsley chiffonade will dance like fairy dust in the wind. I’ll teach you that the avocado, much like your colleague Jonathan Van Ness, is a talented, versatile fruit worthy of your respect. Learn our ways, Brother Antoni, and your knife skills will be more intersectional than a Janet Mock essay! 

The Lesbian Chef Warrior hoists Antoni over her broad, muscular shoulder.

For your eye is as queer as the rainbow, but your taste buds are in desperate need a makeover.

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