Compulsion Page #5

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creamy chocolate

and vanilla together.

Hot and cold.

Fire and ice.

Tell me how you want me.

No. Enough is enough.

No more f***ing food!

Jeez.

I'm goin' to bed.

You don't have to be so blunt.

I'm a perceptive girl.

(phone beeps)

Let this snow

melt in my mouth.

Until my head hurts,

until I'm out.

Makes me laugh a bit.

It Makes me cry.

Same way you confuse me...

(knocking)

Bad things, bad things.

Sad things have to happen.

Chris, come on! Put it when it's up!

I need that risotto yesterday.

Plate's up on fourteen.

Amy?

Hi, Lucas.

Hey.. I tried to tell you.

Jefe likes it the way he likes it.

Don't worry,

I don't want my job back.

I'm getting my own cooking show.

What did he order?

The moules frites.

You know he still brings

his coworkers here.

Well, I didn't realize

he fed them too.

The a**hole never liked them

when I made them.

I try so hard

to make him happy.

Seems like I can never do enough.

Order's ready for seven, Lucas!

Sometimes with all these

clever gastronomic combinations,

and catering to people's desire,

somebody's just bound to get hurt.

But now we do

what we do best in this show..

communicate those touchy feelings

which can only truly be expressed

through cooking.

(angry chopping as audience cheers)

All that pampering and posturing

and pandering

just to get a response.

A tiny spark of appreciation.

And the minute a hot piece of ass

comes your way,

you're all over it like white on rice.

Moules frites.

Probably the only muscle

she ever had

was in the back seat

of a car on her knees.

Whore!

Stick to your

greasy burgers, girlfriend.

But does all this mean

that we have to lower

the gastronomic bar?

No!

Damn straight.

Because food is an art, people,

and true artists fight back

through all the pain and indifference.

They never give up.

Go, girl!

I thought our one-year engagement

was special enough

to break out my best silverware.

I wanted everything to be perfect.

I think it looks amazing,

like one of those kitchens

you see in a magazine.

Not with the kitchen.

I mean with the meal.

How could you go wrong?

You made my favourite. It's delicious.

Actually, they ran out of

the organic partridge, which is unusual,

because the delivery from Beaver Creek

Farms is on Tuesday night.

So I thought, well, you know Fred.

What can we do?

He won't want meat because

he probably snuck in a burger at lunch.

Maybe mussels, fries.

we always enjoyed that together.

You know, we've been having these

catered lunches at work, and, uh--

So I checked in my cooking journal,

and I realized

that on three out of the five occasions

I've made your favourite stuffed game

that you haven't been able

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