Ratatouille2007

Horst:
It's your recipe. How can you not know your own recipe?!

Linguini:
I didn’t write it down, it just-- came to me!

Horst:
Well make it come to you again, ja? Because we can't serve this!

Mustafa:
Where’s my order?!

Linguini:
Can’t we serve them something else?! Something I didn’t invent?

Larousse:
This is what they’re ordering!

Linguini:
Make them order something else! Tell them we’re all out!

Pompidou:
We can’t be all out. We just opened.

Larousse:
I have another idea. What if we... serve them what they order?!

Colette:
We will make it! Just tell us what you did!

Linguini:
I don't know what I did!

Horst:
We need to tell the customers something!

Linguini:
Then tell them... tell them... AAAH! [Close doors]

[Larousse looks around, visibly confused.]

Larousse:
...Eh?

Django:
Remy.

Emile:
Don’t do it.

Django:
Remy! Don’t! Stop!

Emile:
They’ll see you. Stop.

Horst:
We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about what to do right...

Chef:
RATS!

Django:
Remy.

Horst:
Get my knife.

Linguini:
DON’T touch him! (to Remy) Thank for coming back, Little Chef. I know this sounds insane, but, well, the truth sounds insane sometimes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not the... the truth. And the trust is, I have no talent at all. But this rat, he’s the one behind these recipes. He’s the cook. The real cook. (put Remy on his head) He’s been hiding under my toque. He’s been controlling my actions. (Remy pulls Linguini’s hair causing his arms go up) He’s the reason I can cook the food that’s exciting everyone, the reason Ego is outside that door! You’ve been giving me credit for his gift. I know it’s a hard thing to believe, but hey, you-you believed I could cook right? Look, this works, it’s crazy, but it works. We can be the greatest restaurant in Paris and this rat, this brilliant little chef, can lead us there.