Kevin Friedman I'm Going to Smoke you Like this Applewood Smoked Chicken I'm Making for My Hot Old Girlfriend

Chet Fleetwood stands, tall and triumphant, in the one place that makes him feel at home.

It is his home. Technically his kitchen, as he stands, legs spread apart, hunched over a large pan. He stirs a wooden ladle with one hand and uses his other to sprinkle seasoning from an impossibly high height. “Perfect,” he whispers to himself.

The front door flies open and Quinn busts in, staring angrily at his father. “What are you making, dad?”

Chet turns and stares incredulously at his son, as if the answer should be obvious. “The same thing I make every night, Pinky. Fajitas!”

Quinn’s groan can be heard across the Mississippi River. “Ugh, not fajitas again! That’s all you make! You know, I’m starting to think you make them to make only one person happy.”

“Yeah, Matt.”

Quinn’s face scrunches up. “No, you. Who’s Matt? Anyway, doesn’t matter. I need you to leave.”

Chet turned around and faced his son with annoyance. “You’re kicking me out of my own house?”

“Yes and specifically your kitchen. Turn off the stove, I need to make dinner. My old yet hot cougarrifc goddess of a girlfriend, Savannah Scandal, is coming over and I told her I’d make dinner for her.”

Chet looks at the pan. “Plenty of fajitas.”

“No fajitas! Are you kidding? I’ve seen this woman in a pantsuit, and we all know no one who wears pantsuits eats fajitas. Now go!”

“Fine,” says Chet, nodding slowly and turning off the heat on the stove. “Enjoy using the kitchen, the dining room, and the garage if things go well – all of which I pay for.”

If he is expecting some guilt from his son, he is disappointed. “I sure will, dad, thanks! Now get out!”

Chet sighs and acquiesces, as he always does when his baby bundle of joy was concerned - a habit that definitely hasn’t caused any long-lasting issues. “Okay, enjoy your date, I guess. I’ll go fuck off now.” He grabs his keys from his bedroom and is in the doorframe when Quinn stops him.

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Can you help me make dinner for Savannah before you fuck off?”

Chet turns around and looks at the kitchen island. In the time that it had taken for Chet to go to his bedroom, Quinn has set down a wooden cutting board, an apple, a slimy chicken breast, and a small package Chet couldn’t identify. “Sure, what are you making?”

“Applewood smoked chicken breast.”

Chet walks over as Quinn begins slicing apples and rubbing them on the cutting board. “What are you doing?”

“I just told you!” Quinn says in exasperation. After rubbing the apples on the cutting board, he throws them on the floor, then places the chicken breast on the cutting board and grabs the package. “Can you grab me a lighter?”

Chet stares at his kitchen island in confusion before fumbling a lighter from his pocket. “What are you doing with–oh God, Quinn,” he stopped as Quinn snatched the lighter from his dad and opened the package of cigarettes.

“I have to smoke it!” he answers, lighting the cigarette and waving it around the chicken breast, using his other hand to force the smoke near the meat.

Chet puts his hands on his hips. “Did you use a recipe for this?”

“No, it seemed pretty intuitive. Apple, wood, smoke, chicken.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Chet says, waving cigarette smoke from his face. “Listen, you can’t serve that to someone you’re trying to sleep with. I’ll leave, but first you’re going to wash that chicken breast and let me put it in the airfryer for you.”

“Will the airfryer remove the apple essence?”

“No, honey. I promise.” Chet works to undo his son’s culinary malpractice and within a few minutes he has salvaged something edible. As soon as he helped Quinn split the chicken between two plates, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Chet says, opening the door to see Savannah Scandal…and a guest.

“Hey, Chet,” Savannah purrs as she squeezes by him, spiraling her arm backward to pull Mindy Lawson, her assistant, by Chet. “So you're who he picked for our double date?”

Chet turns around and looks at his son, whose eyes mirror his fear and confusion. “Double date?” they say together.

“Didn’t you get my text, Quinny?” Savannah asks, pulling her phone out. “I said that Mindy needed to be babysat–”

“I’m twenty-four,” Mindy says meekly.

“And so you’d need to find one of your hunky friends to join us.” Savannah sends an appraising glance in Chet’s direction. “He’ll do.”

“No I won’t,” Chet says, still standing in the doorway. “She’s half my age, and I’ve seen how that Fauxmoi subreddit reacts to age gap romances. I ain’t dealing with that shit.”

“Dad, wait!” Quinn screams.

“You told me to fuck off, so I’ll be fucking off now,” Chet says, closing the door.

Quinn looks from Savannah to Mindy to the two plates of chicken. “I can fix this,” he says, grabbing his phone.

_______

📷@satanjones is live April 19, 2026 7:22 PM

“What’s up, my little devils! And you are LIVE! WITH! SATAN!”

With every shout, poor Mindy Lawson shrinks further into the couch cushions. Satan, his eyes firmly on his phone, does not notice.

“And we have a special show for you today, because your boy, the Horn-Haired Hunk, the 8-Pack of Excellence, the Terror of TikTok, the Devil of…Dinstagram, has been invited on a double date with his second best bud in the world, Quinn Fleetwood!”

The camera moves to Quinn. As opposed to Kris Roswell, who shies away from the attention, Quinn beams and waves. “Hello, his little devils! Now show my hot girlfriend!”

Satan obliges and moves the camera to Savannah Scandal, who similarly appreciates the attention with a little wave. He brings the camera back to his face. “Hell yeah, Savannah. Hell yeah. And Savannah has brought her friend and assistant–”

“Just assistant,” Savannah says.

“The very cool, charming, and hottest-in-a-She’s-All-That-way person I’ve met, Mindy Lawson!”

Mindy further shrinks into the couch. “I’m not really cool or charming.”

“Are you kidding? You have this air about you, Mindy. You’re just, like, real, you know?” Satan looks at her for a moment before looking back at the camera. “There are people who put their faces on the camera and act all boisterous and loud but they’re hiding a sensitive, vulnerable side and they’re too cowardly to admit it.” Satan’s eyes widen a little. “I mean, that’s not me or anything. I’m loud and boisterous for real.”

He recovers and moves back to Mindy. “But you’re, like, who you are, and you’re not trying to be anyone you’re not. And that’s really cool.”

Mindy looks down at her plate and blushes.

“So anyway,” Satan said, moving the camera back to Quinn, “we’re just eating some delicious dinner – some of us got chicken breast, some of us got fajitas – and Quinn and I were talking about his upcoming match against Kenny Freeman.”

Quinn frowns. “Is that his name? I thought it was Kevin Friedman?”

“Nah, man. Kenny. I’ve faced him before. Kris has faced him twice. He’s been there for, like, three years. Don’t you ever read the roster page?”

“No,” Quinn said, “one time they accidentally removed me from the roster page and my dad thought I got fired. I figured I’d never look at it again.”

One of the things that Satan has learned in this journey is when he’s interviewing people and they say things he doesn’t understand or agree with, he does the journalistic thing and just ignores it and moves on. “Right on! Yeah, so how do you think you’re going to do against Kenny?”

“I’m gonna kill him, of course,” says Quinn. “What kind of question is that?”

Satan brings the phone back to his face and exaggerates a frown. “Well, uh, dude, you’ve lost, like, a lot in PRIME.”

“Yeah, but they were all really good, like Jared Sykes and Bryan Dawkins.”

“I beat Bryan Dawkins!” Satan pipes up.

“Shut up,” Quinn says, grabbing Satan’s phone and bringing it to his face. “Kevin Friedman, listen here. I may have lost a lot of matches in PRIME before, and I may have been embarrassed, and maybe I did see my roster page and got my feelings hurt that they nicknamed me the Adult Toddler, but now things are different. You know why? Because I’m dating a woman!” Quinn moves the phone towards Savannah, who once again waves. “And we have sex sometimes! And with the power of a woman and sometimes sex, I am now much stronger, braver, and more confident!”

“You weren’t confident before?” Satan asks.

“That was irrational confidence. This is sex-based confidence. There’s a difference.” Quinn sneers at the phone again. “So yeah, Kevin, I hope you are ready, because my name is Quinn, and I’m gonna win!"

“Is this cigarette ash in my chicken breast?” Mindy asks.

Satan takes the phone and looks at it. “That’s all the time we have for now, my little devils. I’m gonna eat this cigarette chicken and talk to y’all later!”

The feed cuts.