Bitter Feast Page #4

---

belladonna

by a child is lethal.

For an adult,

10 to 20.

With that in mind,

you may sample one bite

from each plate

to ascertain which has

the mulberries

and which the belladonna.

You will then consume

in its entirety

the dish of your choice.

There's a third option.

If you like, you can decline

this challenge.

You can elect neither plate,

in which case

you'll eat nothing.

Is that clear?

- Mm-hmm.

- Bon apptit.

- Ah.

Cleanse the palate.

- Oh, come on, Mr. Franks.

A tastemaker as formidable

as yourself,

this should be

a walk in the park.

That one's the mulberry.

- Very well.

Do you wish to proceed?

- Yes.

- Dig in.

Now we wait.

Are you feeling

a little wheezy, Mr. Franks?

- A little

shortness of breath.

Air passages constricting.

- I would imagine...

your vision's

getting blurry now.

- Hard to believe

that tastebuds so formidable

they could

discern the difference between

local and imported mulberries

would miss something

so obvious

as belladonna

unless of course

you are completely full of sh*t.

- And now for my review.

- Oh, God.

- J.T. Franks,

self-appointed authority

on good taste died today

because his tastebuds

were so atrophied

that he could not taste

the difference

between sh*t and shinola.

The end.

And now for my review.

Pasta overcooked.

Ragout sour.

Poor little rabbit.

Peter Grey,

culinary huckster,

third f***ing rate.

Now and forever.

- Do you know what this is?

Pilocarpine.

- It's the f***ing antidote.

Do you think I would let you off

that easily?

- Hi, this is Bill Coley,

private investigator.

Leave a message,

and I'll get back to you.

- Hi, Mr. Coley,

this is Katherine Franks here.

Um, I guess

I'm just checking in.

I didn't hear from you today,

so I'm just wondering

where we are with everything.

I guess just call me

when you get this.

Okay, bye.

- I'm so sorry.

Where are we?

Where are we?

- I'm so sorry.

I'm so f***ing sorry.

- Get back.

Just breathe.

- Ladies and gentlemen,

welcome back

to another episode of

Cook For Your Life

with J.T. Franks!

- F*** you!

- J.T. Franks,

you have come quite a long way,

despite a few bumps and bruises,

but I suppose

that's to be expected

in any budding young chef.

And here we have

your lovely assistant,

your lovely sidekick.

- Hey! Hey!

- A sidekick,

which I really

I really think

it's just what the show needed,

the incessant patter,

the banal jokes.

Wouldn't you agree?

- You f***er!

- Wouldn't you agree,

Mr. Franks,

that this is what

the audience wanted?

- Come here!

- You know,

I have something very special

planned for you later,

very special,

and I really think

you're going to love it.

- Don't f***ing look at him!

- Mr. Franks?

- What?

- I think you should conserve

your energy.

- Get the f*** out of here.

- You're going to need it.

I'll be doing

the cooking tonight.

- You gotta just leave her

out of it.

Look.

F***.

You think I ruined

your career?

That's fine.

Just f***ing do

whatever you want to me.

I don't give a sh*t.

You just have to leave her

out of it.

- Precisely, Mr. Franks.

It seems that no matter

what I do to you now,

you just don't care anymore...

Which doesn't help me any.

Actually, it occurs to me

that you really want to die.

Ergo, I can't just kill you;

otherwise you win.

You see my dilemma.

But you wanted to live

a few days ago.

I expect your wife

will be the same way.

So I won't be telling her

at first

what she's been eating.

I'll keep it seasonal,

sustainable.

I don't know,

maybe a crown roast

or barbecued ribs

with a savory maple glaze.

You do look a little stringy,

perhaps braising

might be the best.

Hell, I might even

sample a little bit myself.

By the tree there, Mr. Franks,

by the tree.

Yes.

Turn around, please.

Turn around.

All right,

let's see those hands.

Up.

There we go.

All right.

You have...

three minutes starting now,

and then

I'm coming after you.

- I haven't got a chance.

- Probably not.

- But you have less than

an hour of daylight,

so I suggest you get at it.

- 911.

What is your emergency?

- I've been kidnapped.

My name's Katherine.

I've been kidnapped.

My name is Katherine Franks.

- What is your exact location?

- I don't know.

I don't know.

It's in the country somewhere.

- Are there any

identifying landmarks?

Ma'am?

Ma'am, are you still there?

Are you still there?

- It's me!

It's me!

Hey, it's me!

It's me!

Hey!

Hey, hey, hey.

It's okay.

We have to go get the car.

- No.

- Yes, we do.

We are in the middle of nowhere.

We have to go get

the f***ing car.

Okay?

Come on.

F***.

- We have to go back inside.

- No.

No, we don't.

Let's run.

No, we can't.

- We have to get the keys.

We have to get the keys.

We are gonna

get out of here fine, okay?

Trust me.

Please, no.

No, no, no.

- Oh, dear.

I am the Destroyer.

- I'd give you

the ocean

I'd give you the sky

if I could

I'd push it all back

between the sidewalk cracks

of your neighborhood

Neighborhood

You'll go somewhere

Somewhere

I'll find you there

Somewhere

You'll go somewhere

Somewhere

I'll find you there

Somewhere

Soldiers of misfortune

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes