“Say, did you see Hannibal last night?” Fluvio asks me.

“Yeah, it was on TBS. You saw it too?”

“I was up late.”

I laugh. Fluvio and I spend a lot of time working together. So when we go home what do we do? We end up watching the same movie at the same time. It’s like we’re joined at the psychic hip or something.

“What a great movie,” Fluvio adds.

“I love the part where Lecter flambéed that guy’s brain tableside,” I say.

For those of you unfamiliar with the film I’m referring to the lovely scene where the cannibalistic serial killer gourmand, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, pops open a man’s skull and proceeds to sauté parts of his hapless victim’s brain tableside – while he’s still alive.

Fluvio looks at me suddenly.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks.

There’s a short pause

“Cooking class!” we blurt out simultaneously.

Fluvio holds private cooking shows every couple of months. We set up a cooking station in the front of the bistro and Fluvio demonstrates, step by step, how to prepare an elegant five course meal. The classes are very popular. They’re sold out almost a year in advance.

‘What an outstanding idea,” I crow, clapping my hands delightedly.

“Can you imagine the looks on the customers faces when I tell them what the main course is gonna be?”

“Fucking pricless.”

“Which customer’s brain could we cook up?” Fluvio asks grinning.

“Oh god – the list is endless.”

We go over a few potential victims.

“How about Mr. X?” Fluvio asks.

“Not him,” I reply, “He’d complain his brain is undercooked.”

“Yeah, he’d want to send it back.”

“Which could be problematic.”

“Be fun though.”

“Remove half his brain and no one’d notice anyway.”

A vision of Fluvio and I dressed in tuxedos, merrily scooping out some yuppie’s brainpan like a melon, pops into my head. The image warms the cockles of my cold dark heart.

“How would you cook it?” I inquire.

“I think sautéing it in truffle oil and porcini mushrooms would be tasty.”

“Hey, people eat cow brains,” I say

“So it wouldn’t be such a big leap.”

Fluvio and I chuckle evilly. If the customers around us knew what we were talking about they’d run like hell.

A short while later I’m tableside with some arrogant yuppie. You know the type. He doesn’t say please or thank you. He tugs on my sleeve to get my attention. I’m surprised he doesn’t start snapping his fingers.

While I repeat the specials for the third time a faint smile appears on my lips. Recalling my conversation with Fluvio I find myself carefully examining the yuppie’s head.

It’s about the right size. Hmmm.

He’s bald so that’ll make the part with the cranial saw so much easier.

I peer into the man’s eyeballs as I parrot the specials. All I need now are some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

“He’ll do,” I think to myself.


He’ll do nicely.

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