This Man Cooking On A File Cabinet Grill Is The Blackest Thing I've Ever Seen This Week

I love us. “Us” being Black folks. And there is no greater time than today to flaunt and celebrate it. We are swimming in the ocean of the Black TV Renaissance resurgence, we’re the driving force of social media, our music (as always) is the soundtrack to everyone’s lives, and well… the Carter twins are Black.

Oh! And let’s not forget the Blackest event that will ever happen in the history of polished ebony: the nationwide premiere of Black Panther on Friday, February 16, 2018. It hasn’t even happened yet, but it is already the Blackest event ever. This is scientific fact, conducted by Neil deGrasse Tyson’s play cousin Tyson LeBron deReefer.

Until that day comes; however, I bring you this treasure:

Yes, that’s right… one of the most Blackety Black (shoutout to Alex Hardy) momentous occasions is the BBQ or the cookout, depending on where you’re from. No, not the proverbial cookout that y’all keep inviting white folks to. I’m talking about the actual uncle-sandals-who-brought-this-suspect-ass-potato-salad-electric-slide-grand-finale cookout.

Not to be outdone by anyone, Black folks are the epitome of “the most.” No, really, look up that term right now and I bet Merriam, Webster ‘annem will direct you to a picture of Jerome from Martin. In the spirit of doing “the most,” a lot of things we hold high are also the source of competition. Spades, playing the dozens, wearing shit that “ain’t even out yet”… I could go on. Of course, being able to ‘Q it up proper is certainly a badge of honor. What Black person doesn’t have a grill master in their family, adopted or otherwise?!

But, let’s focus on homie up above. He not only is out here showcasing his grilling skills and serving you the most tender of meats (heh), he has leveled-up and invented a multi-tier grill OUT OF A FILE CABINET.

Stay on topic and let that marinate for a moment.

This nigga. THIS NIGGA HERE. Your uncle could never. This man — this legend — has taken Meek Mill’s Levels to heart like a motherfucker. Oh, you got that Titanium Weber 3000?! So?! This grill has gone Super Saiyan. This grill is a pyramid scheme. This grill is the Dewey Decimal system. This grill is the Mortal Kombat tier and the big boss are those lusciously sauced wings at the top. Dude LITERALLY got the sauce.

Let’s also get into this animated commentary, rivaling the best Sports Center announcer.

Yo boy got a whole chicken on there!” You done fucked the game up, mayne!

Let’s talk about how I need that kind of hype man whenever I enter rooms. He’d be like “Woooooo, she opened that door on a smooth swivel right ‘dere!”

As we hear the bombastic cheers of his friend, the grillmaster himself — we’re going to call him Chef Files —  takes on a tour of each drawer level. You got the wings, you got the whole chicken, and then — oops, power surprise — he takes us to the sweatbox. The engine of the masterpiece. Lastly, the bottom drawer, but never the bottom bitch… is the coal drawer. “That bwoy burnin’!”

Yes it is, Chef Files. Yes it is.

Is there an instant replay? You damn skippy peanut butter it is!

I need Chef Files to have a TV show. You know how you have no idea you were craving something your life until you see it for the first time? This is my feeling; my mood.

Salute to Chef Files, a universal gift. So… can I uh… can I get a wing, though?