Kimchi Milkshake part 2

Leo's post:

Mr.Patrick: "Okay, everybody. So, we have to use numerous nouns and verbs in narrative essay, in detail." For example, (And, then he is telling everybody about a chef is making a kimchi milkshake)

Us: (basically screaming our head off.)

So, I want to continue the story that Mr.Patrick started:

'The chef clanked two knives with each other which made a loud sound of metal hitting metal. But, he was just showing off. He dropped his knives and moved his heavy feet out of the restaurant. He thumped toward a old and rusty trash can. He put his stubby arm inside the trash can. Then he took out a gooey and brown kimchi. It was slowly dripping a brown, black, and thick liquid. It dropped on the boots of the chef with a loud 'splat.' Then, he threw the kimchi on the blender with a loud and definite squelch and splatter. After that, he scooped the black milk under the trash can. The odor was magnificent, but, the chef didn't even flinched. He poured the liquid on the blender and started blending. When the mixing was finished, the chef pulled out a brown milkshake with pieces of kimchi stuck on the bottom.'

I decided to continue the story Mr. Patrick started that Leo continued-

'The chef plopped a handful of ice made out of the leak in the water tank- of course the one that dripped on the floor. He grabbed a rusting metal stick from the soapy sink and slowly he stirred, and decided to test-drink the horrific drink. clumping his shiny but sloppy boots he swayed around the brown kitchen floor, What used to be white. The floor cracked and squeaked and he jumped on a wooden floor bit sticking out, delighted by the pleasant squeaks it gave. he reached out to a rotting wooden cabinet, poorly cared, and got a used straw, probably used from a costumer when his great grandfather owned the shop. Then he walked to the the trash can and again, and started rummaging though the smelly can. reaching out, he grabbed another big stash of his kimchi material with his bare hands. ripping a slice for himself, he ate the sequence with some goo he spotted near the bottom of the trash can. singing a song of pleasure, he he shook his head and grabbed another handful. hugging his love casually, he did the waltz with the foul stench and plopped another layer on top of the melting ice. then he pressed a button, mixed, and opened the lid. he poured a serving and stuffed the straw in the hard, tough liquid. it was solid-warm and he inhaled until a rotting flavor touched his tongue. He shook his head in delight, thinking that his drink was too good to be true.