Bitter Feast Page #3

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For more on

this developing story,

we go to News 3's

Melissa Sanchez.

- Katherine Franks,

the wife of missing food critic

J.T. Franks,

made an emotional

televised appeal today

for any information

on her husband's whereabouts.

Can you tell us

where the police are right now

in this investigation?

- We're asking anyone

who might have seen him

to please come forward

and to contact

your local law enforcement.

- And is there anything

you would like to say

to your husband

if he's watching this?

- Jimmy,

if you're watching this,

please...

Please,

know that I'm here

and all I want to know

is that you're safe.

- Franks was last seen

leaving the midtown offices

of Gastropunks.com

on April 19th.

Anyone with information

is asked to call the

phone number on your screen.

- Wake up!

Wake up! Wake up!

We've got the dinner rush!

Wake up!

Wake up!

Fire those entrees!

- Fire those entrees!

Good afternoon,

Mr. Franks.

- Okay.

You've made your point.

Look,

I'm a dick.

I understand that now.

I-I write these things

without thinking about

the consequences

for people like you,

and it's just because

I hate myself,

and I'm sorry.

Do you hear me?

I'm sorry.

- Oh, my dear sweet Jesus,

is that good.

- Listen.

Listen to me.

Just look at me.

What do you want me to say?

- Do you like steak,

Mr. Franks?

- I've learned my lesson.

What do you want?

- Do you like steak,

Mr. Franks?

- Do you like steak,

Mr. Franks?

- Yes!

- Well, you might

be interested to know

that this steak comes from

a local farm,

pasture-raised,

grass-fed,

no drugs, no hormones.

The flavor is sublime.

How do you take yours?

- Medium rare.

- You don't say.

"June 24, 2008.

Black and Blue,

reviewed by J.T. Franks."

- Not again.

- "What is it

about medium rare

that the city's chefs

find so difficult to execute?"

- What the f***

do you want from me?

- "Season

with salt and pepper,

"3 1/2 minutes

on the grill,

"flip and repeat.

A monkey could do it,

right?"

Well, calling all monkeys.

Hungry?

Well, tell you what.

I have another

of these babies

right here in the cooler.

Toss it on the grill.

Cook it just right,

medium rare,

not a flea fart

hotter or cooler.

If you can manage that,

then the steak is yours.

I grew up in these woods,

Mr. Franks,

me and my big brother,

Johnny.

Johnny was kind of

a randomly cruel kid,

the type that would pull

the hind legs off a rat

and put it in a box

with a blind cat,

just to see what would happen,

I suppose.

He did things to me too,

mean, nasty things.

One day,

he pushed me too far.

It's amazing

the kind of rage

that can build up

in a small child.

I dug his grave

with my bare hands,

covered his body

with leaves and dirt.

No one ever looked twice at it.

It was hard on my parents,

never knowing

what happened to their boy,

whether he was dead or alive.

But eventually,

many years later, they died,

and with them,

the pain was resolved.

There are two classes of men

in this world,

Mr. Franks.

One who create

and add something to

the collective human experience.

And those who destroy,

who lurk in the shadows

and wait for saps like me

to come along

to punch myself out

and collapse

so they can poke me

with sticks

until I beg for mercy.

There will always be

these two classes of men,

and they should be enemies.

He who seeks to unite them,

seeks to destroy existence.

And your steak

is overcooked.

Why?

- What?

- Why?

- What, Mr. Franks?

I can't hear you.

If you're going to speak,

then speak up!

- Ah!

- That's right, Mr. Franks.

That's right.

After all,

we're just animals.

There will be a special reward

for you after this.

For he's

a jolly good fellow

For he's a jolly good fellow

For he's a jolly good fellow

which nobody can deny

- Whoo!

- Bravo.

Ah, listen, they say

they say that all good things

must come to an end,

and despite all the headaches,

this show

was very good indeed.

- Too good.

- Too good.

Too good, absolutely.

To Peter and Peg.

We didn't always see

eye to eye,

but there's nobody

I respect more.

Salute.

Salute.

- Cheers.

- Cheers, guys.

- Thanks.

Well done, well done.

- What are you doing in here?

- The door was open.

You know,

I had to wear makeup once,

back in my cop days.

Did this, uh,

public service announcement,

little thing

on domestic violence.

- I'm sorry, Mr. Coley?

Is there something

that I can help you with?

- There's no need to be rude,

Mr. Grey.

- I'm sorry.

It's just that

I have an important meeting

I have to attend.

- Oh, really?

'Cause it seemed to me

that you are on

a bit of a losing streak,

you know, what with

the restaurant and the show.

- That which does not kill me

only makes me stronger.

- Well, you must be pretty

damn strong at this point.

What happened to your hand?

- I burned it.

- Mm.

So I've been doing

a little digging.

It's a terrible tragedy

with your brother.

Yeah, in that regard,

you and J.T. Franks

have a lot in common.

- Oh?

- Yeah, his son died

two years ago.

Leukemia.

- Well,

that's a very sad story.

I didn't even know

he had a wife.

- Yeah,

a real nice lady.

It's a funny thing, though.

She's convinced

that Franks has run off,

you know, that he doesn't want

to be found.

I mean,

I don't believe it.

See, I got these

superhuman nostrils.

I can smell bullshit

a mile off.

How'd you burn your hand?

- Cooking.

- Cooking what?

- Souffl.

- What kind?

- Cheese.

- Was it good?

- Delicious.

- Okay.

You...

you take care of that hand.

Looks serious.

- Cheese souffl, Mr. Grey.

- It's okay.

It's okay.

I'm gonna help you.

I'm gonna get you

out of here.

Gonna get you

out of here.

I need something

for that chain.

I'll be right back.

I promise.

- No!

No, no, no, no!

- Hello?

No!

- He's dead.

He's dead.

Go on,

you f***ing coward.

Coward.

Come on!

Come on!

- No one can save you now,

Mr. Franks.

Open raviolo with wild rabbit

and red mulberry ragout and...

open raviolo with wild rabbit

and red mulberry ragout.

May 19, 2009.

"Feast reviewed

by J.T. Franks."

Who am I kidding?

I don't need the paper

to remember this one.

"Silly.

"That's the only word

that could characterize

"Peter Grey's open raviolo

with wild rabbit

"and red mulberry ragout.

"How else

to describe a dish

"which boasts a rabbit ragout

sweetened with the very berries

"which said rabbit feasted on

"as a happy creature

in the wild.

"L was left wondering

"what horrible sin

did Mr. Bunny commit

"that he should have to suffer

"such a twisted

and Dante-esque fate.

"And who does Peter Grey think

would actually believe

"such culinary balderdash?

"Note to Peter Grey:

"J.T. Franks knows

frozen Chilean mulberries

when he tastes them."

Two preparations,

identical in every way

except that with one,

I have substituted

Atropa belladonna,

or deadly nightshade,

for the red mulberries.

Consumption of two to five

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