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Nightmares at Nights

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Summary: A famous foulmouthed chef decides to do an ambush makeover of Xander's Nights.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
BtVS/AtS Non-Crossover > Comedy > Xander-CenteredmariahFR1376,72214014,34524 Dec 0926 Apr 13No

Teaser - Introduction

disclaimer: This story is inspired by Kitchen TV and well-known kitchen/restaurant makeover shows. Since real people cannot be used in fan fic -- I shall hereby dub my famous chef as Rudolf Grayson. Buffy belong to Whedon. Nights Bar belongs to (Xander and) Methos. I'm just borrowing from Whedon et al.


“Tonight, we debut our newest show 'Ambush Kitchen'. Our first-ever ambush makeover: Nights Bar in Cleveland, Ohio.” The camera pans to a three story building, with large divided pane windows on each floor. A step-down entrance, and a thick mahogany door with antiqued mirrored glass that reads 'Nights'. “So what will we find inside? A night in heaven or nightmare from hell?”

“Night's is owned by one Xander Harris.” A cut to a snapshot of Xander Harris from his high school yearbook. “A high school dropout, he's never run any business before, but he thinks he's going to run a successful restaurant in Cleveland, Ohio. One of my friends from high school tipped me off.” Rudolf Grayson is sitting in his own restaurant in London in his white chef's coat. The restaurant empty, and a gentleman is sitting across from him, dressed in a Saville row pinstripe. “This is my buddy Eric Cantrip, he's known Xander for a while.”

“Well, I have a chum that I met a year or so ago. He's got a restaurant in Cleveland. Charming fellow and all, but not too bright, take my meaning? I doubt he could find his way out of a rucksack with a map. A bit of a goofball. I don't know what he's thinking, running a bar and restaurant. In any case, maybe you could check up on him and give him some tips? Maybe you can at least get him out of the business before he loses his shirt.” The gentleman shook his head sadly.

Rudolf feigns a glum look at the bespectacled Eric, who continues his serious expression. “You know, I can't fix everyone. And they have to be willing to change.”

“Well, I can't speak to the boy's intellect. He doesn't have any. Barely made it out of high school, if he did make it at all. Never seen his diploma. But I've noticed that he listens to those he respects.”

The next scene is shot with Rudolf Grayson standing outside a three story building with picture windows out onto the street. The graphics state “Cleveland – Nights – 3 p.m. Wednesday.”

“So that is the story, folks. Some punk kid thinks any f-ing idiot with a chef hat can start a restaurant and make a success of it. This is going to be our first ambush 'Kitchen Makeover'. It's mid-afternoon, midweek, if the kid's as bad off as my buddy Eric seems to think, the restaurant should be about empty. Course, this is the slow time of day in any restaurant.” Grayson grins maniacally at the camera. “Since this is an ambush makeover – you, our viewer, get to meet the restaurant with us.” The camera pans the building to the business next door. “Problem number one, they've got a major competitor next door. A bakery! And I can smell the aroma of fresh baked bread and cookies all the way over here. What sort of f-ing dunce puts his restaurant next to a deli? It's all about location folks.” Rudolf sends the camera crew over to pan the window at the bakery. There are half empty bins of fresh loaves. “Lovely, look at that brioche, perfect rise. And artisan bread. I see brownies and cream puffs. I count, seven, eight, nine people in line.” A woman in a green skirt and silvery blouse steps outside holding three strap-handled brown paper bags that read 'Tallyn' in a simple font on the outside. Three Italian loaves peek out of the top of one bag, and all bags are clearly stuffed to the brim with loaves. Rudolf runs up to the woman. “You bought enough for an army.

“Oh, no. Just me and my family.”

“That's a lot of bread.”

The woman laughs – “Are you filming this?” She points at the cameras curiously. “Four kids and a husband. We'll eat it all. I'll be back tomorrow.”

“Is it as good as it looks and smells?”

The woman smiles brilliantly to the camera. “Even better. Gotta run.”

“So not only is Nights parked next to a bakery, they are parked next to a good bakery. Enough about the bakery, let's check out the restaurant. First off, are they open? And is anyone home?” Rudolf walks up to the door, and opens it. The camera pans out.
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