Ratatouille Script Novels & Stories

I curiously asked, placing my elbows on the counter. "It's called Ratatouille. Trust me you'll love it," He answered, his eyes focused on his hands. "Yummy-like in the movie?" I questioned, letting out a small laugh. Setting his knife down, he looked up at me and gave me a confused look. "The animated film with the little rat that cooks?" I tried to explain but his puzzled expression remained. "What are you talking about?" He asked, turning around and tending to the pot on the stove.

Althea nodded in gratitude. Beside the soup sat a plate of warm ratatouille, the roasted vegetables arranged beautifully—zucchini, eggplant, red peppers, and tomatoes cooked with olive oil and a hint of thyme. The colors were bright and inviting, like a small taste of southern France placed right on their table. For the main course, the waiter set down a plate of saumon grillé—a grilled salmon fillet with a golden crust. It was served alongside tender asparagus and small roasted potatoes brushed with butter and rosemary.

CHAPTER ELEVEN Chapter Eleven Anders I eyed the plate of ratatouille and grilled fish, while debating if I should have a taste or not. I’d been at loss of what to order, and had just gone with whatever I saw first while searching through the menu. The last time I ate, was five hundred years ago, and while I was eager to test if my taste buds had awakened, I was still afraid. If the taste of food was still the same as before, that’d prove that Marguerite wasn’t my mate. Well, there was the vamp mate sex to prove that, but there had been cases where humans passed out while having sex and–

, Mathilde says, offended. Kiki shrugs. “One never knows…” “Just get her water and don't take it to heart”, I say, pointing to the exit. Mathilde nods briefly and leaves. I smell the ratatouille[2] and the veal rib, which is delicious. I take a large forkful, savoring each bite that melts in my mouth. I look up and find Kiki staring at me. Mathilde returns with the sparkling water and wine. She hands the bottle to Kiki, before placing the wine bottle on the table. I grab the corkscrew, deftly open the bottle, and serve myself. The soft sound of the wine pouring into the glass fills the silence of the room. The fact that she doesn't touch the food makes me suddenly irritated. It's not possibl

June replied in an amused tone as she took a picture of the list and passed it to her helper. "in two hours time, the groceries should be here." she told Elsa. "ok, I will make two bowls of cereals for us." "please put lot of sugar in mine." June told Elsa. "No, just milk. Sugar isn't good for you." Elsa retorted. "Oh God." June groaned. She heard the doorbell ring. "Are you expecting someone?" Elsa asked. "No, the helper won't be here with the groceries until later in the day. I am not expecting anyone else."

The waiter said as she took their menus. "Nous aurons deux portions de coq un vin et de fromage" Drille said to the waiter in French which means "We'll have two servings of Coq a Vin and Cheese Souffle". The waiter nodded and left. "Tu parles français?" Allison asked as she laughed. "Oui,I speak french. You too? I didn't know you spoke French. You don't look like it" Drille said as they both laughed. Jackson looked at them with anger written all over his face.

Mr Smith: What's wrong dear? Paris: It has finally happened, the king placed an order for bread just now Mr Smith: (shouts) Wow, Amazing Paris: I'll go deliver it, I wanna know how the castle looks on the inside. Mr Smith: I'll go with you, I wanna see the castle too. Paris: We'll have to make a fresh batch of bread for him so that if he tastes it and its good, he'll patronize us permanently. Mr Smith: Great idea! (Paris and her dad, Mr Smith goes to the castle)

She hurriedly said, "Sally just made us food because she's bored and has nothing better to do. She isn't trying to get Rhonda dismissed." Suzanne quickly flashed Sally a bright smile. Since Sally liked putting up the act of being gentle and capable, Suzanne would gladly help her with that. "Ms. Hoffis, it's true that you make delectable food. I'd like to have some coq au vin, bouillabaisse, and ratatouille tomorrow. That wouldn't be too much to ask for, would it?" Those were three dishes known to be extremely cumbersome to make. Rhonda almost burst out laughing when she heard that. She quickly covered her mouth and stifled a laugh.

“Of course. I can keep the ratatouille heated for as long as you need.” I relocate to the kitchen and when Scott emerges five minutes later, he’s buttoning up his jeans. My eyes are drawn to his crotch. As his hands work their way upwards, I catch a glimpse of his flat, toned stomach and the hairs at the top of his trousers. A wave of heat spreads through my body. I turn my back and decisively stir the ratatouille. Scott’s praise for the meal is so lavish, that you’d think he’d dined at a Michelin star restaurant.

While one is driving me up the wall with his stupid smirks, the other decided to make me a co-star in the movie, Ratatouille. Marcello rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, his suit jacket long discarded. I watch as he exposes patch after patch of skin and muscular arms and good Lord! That’s hot. He catches me ogling him before I can look away. He smirks. Typical. He walks to the fridge while I give myself a very stern talking-to. It was bad enough that I let myself act like a loose woman in his bed but I can’t get attached or expect anything from him. He returns with a glass of milk and slides it towards me. I grab the glass and find that it is warm and when I taste it, there’s a hint of honey