Burnt Page #4

with minor celebrities

on morning television.

I'll never be that dead.

I love the decor, by the way.

- It's perfect for stoning infidels.

- What do you want?

I wanted to see how far the tortoise

had gotten ahead of me.

- You're the hare in this analogy?

- It's your analogy.

- What happened to butter?

- What happened to your angel face?

Oh, crack cocaine and Louisiana.

I heard an idiotic rumor

you're going for a third star.

I heard an idiotic rumor

that you'd gotten yours.

- Then I found out it's true.

- That must have hurt.

Eh, I was on heavy painkillers

at the time.

Okay, all right, look.

The whole Mozart/Salieri bullshit

doesn't interest me anymore.

I cook good, local ingredients

in a unique, creative way

to impress my diners.

Well, you don't cook.

You warm food up in condoms.

Frying pans, flames and booze

went out with Adam Jones.

And please don't think

I'm impressed with the water.

You're an addict.

So it's not alcohol now.

It'll be coke, or booze,

or f***ing every girl you meet,

because you're addicted to the way

you feel every second of the day.

Doomed youth is romantic.

Doomed middle age really isn't.

Please don't think that's on the house.

You pay your way like everyone else.

Reece, in truth,

the lobster was good.

If you have any humanity left,

leave Tony Balerdi and his father alone.

But you f***ed up the sauce

with too much lemon juice.

Excuse me one second.

Was he drunk?

Find out how far he's got and

who the f*** he's got with him.

Got freed. You're out.

Really?

Oh, fantastic.

- Nice bike.

- Michel's.

- Does he know you borrowed it?

- Not yet.

- How are you?

- Good, good.

Assault?

He plated the monkfish upside-down.

Three times.

Upside-f***ing-down, man.

Come on.

He was a fat f***er,

and he was always chewing gum.

So you-you took, you took matters

into your own hands?

Yeah, yes, I did.

But they sewed his nose back on.

You know why? Because it was

me who picked it up off the floor

and put it in a fish locker

until the ambulance arrived.

I mean, people conveniently

forget that part.

That's a shame.

Jody!

Added more tarragon.

It was better yesterday.

Can I try it?

Come on.

Mmm.

- Better yesterday.

- I didn't ask you.

You know, I'm thinking the, uh,

'89 Chateau Angelus with the pigeon.

Yeah. Try this.

Good.

"Good"?

"Good" means nothing.

- I've had a call from a TV show today.

- Absolutely not.

You know, my analyst suggested you may

have an obsessive-compulsive disorder

that you self-medicated for years.

She thinks you should be

in a program or in a group.

I don't do groups.

So what do you think,

is it too much or too little tarragon?

An e-mail came addressed to you.

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