Episode 11 - Your Body, Our Temple

The Narrator:
Well, well and hello again dear, dear listener, I’m sure you know where you are by now, but for propriety’s sake, welcome back to Tales Beneath the Surface, our deepening journey into the unknown. What a week it’s been, feels more like a lifetime since we last spoke. I’ve been wandering over the cobbled skin of my old haunts, peering in dusty windows and knocking on bolted doors, I must look quite the sight! A face full of sighs and hands covered in the city’s dirt, traipsing around on the hunt for people who must be long, long gone. Ah well, got to keep yourself busy, as my uncle used to say, everyone needs a hobby! Though his, in fact, leant a little too hard into the unsavoury.

An interesting phenomena though, you know, taste. I’ve heard it’s an equal split. Half the fleshy molecules mashed and bisected by your tongue and teeth. The other bright and effervescent scents leaping away from your mouth’s noisome pit only to be drawn down the moist caverns making up your nose, disgusting. I’ve heard one without the other is far worse than you might imagine; it is not an even cleaving. It’s fitting that taste involves a second sense. After all, the word’s other meaning pulls in your body entire, married to whatever sense of joie de vivre you act out day to day. Some people live for both, placing them above all other considerations like cost or..hmm…morality. How far would you go, dear listener? I know I would go just far enough…

---

Well Hung

The alarm went off, shrieking as Micky knocked it to the ground. He jumped out of bed, hopping back after bruising his feet on everything else strewn across the floor. His heart was pounding, whether from nerves or the come down from the night before he couldn’t tell. Still, at least his knives were sharp and rolled up, their edges checked nine times before the uppers had finally burnt out. And look! Yes, there was still a mouthful of whisky and a cheeky bump on the plate next door. Micky took both, jumped in the shower then dried, dressed and ran out the door. Today was the big day, he’d signed on the dotted line after all.

KITCHEN PEP TALK.

HEAD:
I want a tight set tonight, no fuckups, you’re the best else you wouldn’t be here so stay sharp

KITCHEN:
Yes chef!

HEAD:
Onto the meat, we’ve had half a side to work with, the rest has been processed and turned into gifts the guests can take away and enjoy at their leisure

KITCHEN:
Yes chef!

HEAD:
We’re doing top to tail, not a scrap goes to waste, thanks to the butchers we’ve got some choice cuts to work with, how long have they been hanging?

BUTCHER:
The legs have been dry-aged for 36 days chef, we separated out the organs, sweetbreads and blood for processing today, got some patès ready to go and some charcuterie that’s been curing longer

HEAD:
Good, fantastic work, now our friends in the grocery dept sourced everything you could need, all in season and pulled at its best, a fitting accompaniment, you all know the menu, we clear?

KITCHEN:
Yes chef!

HEAD:
Good, right into teams, listen to your leads. Clean and efficient tonight, it’s full out there and he demands perfection. All goes well we’ll share the sacrament, enjoy yourselves!

KITCHEN:
YES CHEF!!

The crowd of white suited chefs split into groups, the low murmur of conversation and piss taking swelling as they got ready for service. The stations were set, they were ready to go. Micky followed Ezra over to their station, the journey of how he got there writhing in his head.

GETTING THE CALL.

They’d met on a club’s stairs, bumping into each other as they passed. Micky had been ready for a fight till he’d recognised the face surrounding the bright biting grin. They’d worked together for a couple of years, second job after he’d got out of Broadmoor, their friendship sealed in the blood and tears sweated out on the line while they were both coming up. It’d been the highlight of his career, they’d pushed culinary boundaries together, their shared passion pushing each other further. Then Ezra had dropped off and disappeared. Micky thought he’d left the city or been pinched on one of his sketchier side jobs. No one had a clue, the city’s a transitory place after all. They’d swapped numbers right there, holding people up either side, leaving them grumbling trying to push past. Micky didn’t expect to hear from him again, his face had been bright and drug flushed, pupils pin pricks in blood shot eyes. Two days later, while Micky was having a break from service, though he did.

MICKEY:
Who’s this?

EZRA:
You already forgot? Been 2 days mate, don’t know whether to be insulted or–

MICKEY:
Ezra? Fucking hell, you got a new number already?

EZRA:
More than one phone, business and pleasure mate, got to keep them separate

MICKEY:
What’s this then?

EZRA:
Depends on you, got a job I know you’ll be interested in

MICKEY:
Got one at the moment mate

EZRA:
What, at the Goose and Gander!? This is better

MICKEY:
They’re shouting, I’ve got to get back–

EZRA:
Call me, talk costs nothing and this one could get you the world

MICKEY:
Right, be easy

click of phone hanging up

He’d thought little of it at the time, probably some hare-brained scheme, a quick way to a couple of grand. Nothing he needed though, that part of his life was behind him and he couldn’t afford another fuck up. Halfway though his third pint after his shift was wrapped his phone rang again. He stepped outside to answer, lighting a cig as he passed through the door, the booze sharpening his interest.

MICKEY:
Yes mate

EZRA:
Least you saved my number, ay no worries, I remember, weekends are murder

MICKEY:
Yeah you know how it goes, these days feels more like it’ll end up there haaha, anyway what you got?

EZRA:
Straight to it, always liked that

MICKEY:
Beats wasting time walking around it, so, what is it?

EZRA:
Cooking

MICKEY:
Really?

EZRA:
Yeah, you sound surprised

MICKEY:
Thought you’d moved on

EZRA:
Haha, nah never gave it up just went underground

MICKEY:
Damn, really? Haven’t heard a whisper since you left Ceniza

EZRA:
Waay underground

MICKEY:
What? Guerilla dining?

EZRA:
Like you wouldn’t believe, remember all that talk about going beyond, breaking new boundaries, well, this is that

MICKEY:
Heard that before, need more to get me excited mate

EZRA:
This one’s different, take my word for it, you free tomorrow? Better to talk face to face if you know what I mean

MICKEY:
Got a dirty double, free monday if you can wait?

EZRA:
See you then. I’ll send you the address, swing by around 2. We’ll see if I can pique your interest

FX - PHONE MESSAGE PING

“Be here at 2 come Monday, you’ve heard nothing like this”

KITCHEN SHIT TALK - italian, french etc.

CHEF 1:
This your new dishcloth then, putain, he gonna be better than the last one you brought in stinking up my kitchen

EZRA:
Your kitchen? Hear that lads? Our little Napoleon’s making a move up the ladder, better watch out!

jeers

EZRA:
Don’t fret mon ami he’s good, you should watch yourself

CHEF 1:
He better be, anyway here’s a quick rundown of the shit you need to keep a handle on. I don’t want you getting in my way

CHEF 2:
Basta! Don’t mind him, where you worked before?

MICKEY:
Here and there, spent a few years with Ez over at Ceniza, been in the game a while, I know the moves

CHEF 2:
appreciative whistle You’ll be good then

MICKEY:
What’s service like, heard it’s one sitting, same menu for everyone, that about the size of it?

CHEF 2:
That’s it, everyone’s eating the same, easier for us, no?

MICKEY:
Aye, simple enough

CHEF 3:
Behind, watch yourselves dickheads

jeers / laughter

HAVING THE MEETING.

Monday rolled round fast, the rest of the weekend blurred over with a wash of work, drink and drugs. It had been another hard week at the Goose banging out the same dull classics, always in the weeds. The kitchen was fraying under pressure from the money men to cut costs and, if he saw another beef wellington, he’d stab someone. There’d been 3 sackings the last fortnight. It was brutal and tempers were fraying. Every shift was understaffed and he’d come close to burying his fist in the manager’s gut each one of them. Then he was at the address pushing the bell’s button down and listening to it jangle in the space behind the door. Ezra swung it open, grinning hungrily, stepping aside to let him through.

EZRA:
Head down to the kitchen, we can have a drink, and a chat

Micky nodded and walked along the threadbare carpet past the gap toothed bannister and the padlocked door below the stairs. The kitchen was gloomy, its ceiling burnt black above a dusty range topped with hobs furred with old grease and cobwebs. A table stood on the peeling linoleum floor flanked by two chairs facing each other over the scarred table top. It was empty save the grooves of past knife work splitting fibres that had grown up together.

MICKEY:
Thought you said you were still in the game

EZRA:
Not here dickhead, this place is for sleeping, temporary digs, take a seat

He wrenched open the heavy fridge door and pulled out a half empty bottle of calvados and a square of mirror mounded with powder, placed them on the table between them and carved out a line with the blade of his hand then bent over to suck it up.

EZRA:
Bit of a mix on this cough can’t remember everything there to be honest, feels pretty fucking good though, want some?

MICKEY:
May as well

It went up clean then burned as it hit the back of his throat before the fire spread down his nostril. Micky took a slug of calvados to take away the taste and mask the cough building in his chest, the fire of the brandy and powder tightening a ragged grin between his cheeks.

MICKEY:
Damn, the fuck’s that cut with? stifled cough So, we here for this or have you got something to tell me? I’m good with either just if there’s something to discuss best to do it before this kicks in

EZRA:
Yeah, this job, it’s a special one, and you’re a match

MICKEY:
I’m not selling any more, place I’m at takes a dim view of people shifting to the staff, not ‘cos they’re honest mind, their dealers have locked it down

EZRA:
You think this is about fucking powder!? Nah mate, we’re cooking

MICKEY:
Cooking?! Get fucked

EZRA:
I’m serious, the fuck do you think I’ve been doing for the last two years?

MICKEY:
Really? Yeah?

EZRA:
laughs Fair one, nah I’ve been in the kitchen and, to be fair, I’d face more jail time for this than dealing

MICKEY:
What? For a fucking supper club? You kidnapping the rich fucks that come to it?

EZRA:
Nah not quite, it’d be bad for the staff and the guests if we got rumbled

MICKEY:
That’s fucking wild, what is it?

EZRA:
An underground dining club, one with a twist, been running a long while

MICKEY:
What’s it called?

EZRA:
You wouldn’t have heard of it. No one has chuckle

MICKEY:
I’ll bite, what kind of dinner is it then? Endangered animals and a grab bag of conflict diamonds on the way out?

EZRA:
laugh Nah nothing that gauche, tell you what have another line, it’ll get you in the right head space

both take a line

EZRA:
Now, I’ve got something to show you

INTERVIEW WITH DINNER.

sounds of him being dismembered. Saws, cutting, low murmured voices

read with reverence and religious zeal

DINNER:
Let me start with an apology for how diminished I look, I promise I used to be so much more and, well, less. Rest assured that the honour of sanctification, of becoming the sacrament that graces your plates this evening, fills me with a feeling of such distinction that my phantom limbs feel a part of me again, rather than ah parted from me, if you’ll forgive my little pun. Ever since my induction into the coterie I’ve been gifted a sense of purpose sadly absent in the dissolute world I was born to. I can only thank you for that elevation and for opening the road towards this delicious ascension. I offer up my body to you freely, as an act of loving gratitude. I will be your conduit. And you will share a taste of the embrace I fall willingly into. Together we go to the hungry god’s arms, I just lead the way, and wait there to welcome you in. Now, sit back and enjoy a lifetime of effort and experience and choices all to bring you this particular flavour. Your times will come and we’ll finally meet, smiling under his loving gaze, there is no doubt about that.

MICKEY:
What the fuck was that

EZRA:
I think you’ve got an idea

MICKEY:
Nah mate I don’t think I do

EZRA:
Come on now, stop fucking about, what do you think it is, remember the ortolan?

MICKEY:
That was a fucking bird! That is a person! Nah, nah, you can’t be serious, you’re joking, yeah it’s a joke, it’s got to be a fucking joke. Fuck, what happened to his legs..where are his fucking arms

sound of chair clattering to the floor

MICKEY:
What the fuck did you just show me Ez? You get me round here to put me on the plate too? Is that it?

sound of smashing things

EZRA:
Calm down man, calm down, I’m not gonna eat you laugh let me explain, if you’re not interested you’ll never see me again

MICKEY:
Just like that, yeah, what if I go to the police? What about that? You gonna send a team of butchers after me, pick me up and chuck me in the mincer?

EZRA:
big laughs The police?! What, you Micky?! And say what? I got offered a job at the Cannibal Kitchen?! Sounds like a quick trip to getting sectioned or thrown in the cells, particularly for someone with your record mate. No, like I said, we’re cooking, that’s it, that’s all it is. And what we’re making, no one else can touch us, it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen, you wouldn’t believe the care that goes into every dish. It sings on the plate it’s almost holy, yeah, holy

MICKEY:
What the..can you hear..sigh / exhale I don’t know if you’re taking the piss, jesus, give me that brandy

EZRA:
Help yourself

Glugaluglug

EZRA:
Ready to hear more, or…

MICKEY:
I’ll hear you out, just to see if you’re fucking with me

EZRA:
Right, well this..club, it’s been going for a while, longer than you’d think

MICKEY:
OK

EZRA:
They’ve got a whole, how’d you call it, mythology about its founding, putting on a stuffy professor’s voice it stretches back into the mists of time and today we continue — well you get the idea

MICKEY:
So the cannibal cult has a heritage, how the fuck does that make it any better man, christ, I know we’ve done some fucked shit together but—

EZRA:
I’m getting to it, a little scene setting first, you’ll see, it all links together. So this club, they’ve got a program for their uh donors

MICKEY:
The video?

EZRA:
Yeah, exactly. They’ve turned the journey to the plate into a belief system, a rite of initiation. They’re groomed to go to the knife ready and willing thinking it’s some kind of gift to whatever god they’re serving

MICKEY:
Their fucking god?

EZRA:
Oh yeah, not one you’d know, and he hungers laughs it’s all bollocks, who fucking knows maybe they’re right. Look, the way they see it their whole life peaks on the plate, every decision made, every action taken, every mouthful and swallow creates their unique taste. Then on that one fateful night, their sacrifice is treated as sacrament by those who prepare them

MICKEY:
Sacrament?

EZRA:
Right, look no one gives a fuck what you believe and by the time you see it it’ll be the same as any other meat, the care we put into the cooking is all the respect that’s needed

MICKEY:
whistle what about the guests? They bought into all this?

EZRA:
I’m sure some of them are true believers, the rest, well you know the decadent rich, always looking for a limit to go beyond, those perverts are all about flavour and provenance and story laughs could say the same about us to be fair

MICKEY:
So you’re saying the uh donor goes in eyes open and willing? That what you’re getting at?

EZRA:
Yeah, thinking about it, it’s practically vegan

Ezra laughs

MICKEY:
This aint funny

EZRA:
Alright mate! Flavour, that’s what it’s about, that’s all it’s about. They’ve sold it to whoever’s on the menu so they’re nice and relaxed. Then, I dunno, they’re hypnotised or something, either way they’re blissed out, body flooded with oxytocin, supposed to be a taste like no other

MICKEY:
You tried it?

EZRA:
Now, that would be telling laugh look I like you, you’re fucking good and you’re open to the extreme. If it wasn’t for the meat this place would be something to shout about. Everyone’s at the top of their game, it’s the most groundbreaking shit I’ve ever seen and, come on, you can at least admit you’ve wondered about preparing a bit of long pig, this way at least your fulfilling someone’s dying wish

MICKEY:
laugh, uneasy? Damn, forgot how dark you get, it would be something–

EZRA:
Ah almost forgot the pay, this sound of bag clinking with heavy metal coins hitting the table is what I got for the last outing

MICKEY:
Damn, is that fucking gold?! —-damn

EZRA:
Yes mate, sovereigns, kruggerands one time I got a fucking doubloon straight from the Mary Rose…I’m just fucking with ya. So, you in?

MICKEY:
I don’t know Ez, it’s a lot, christ, it’s a lot to put on someone, I need some time to uh think about it

EZRA:
Course, next outing’s in a month, now, let’s get a bit messy, for old times sake, it’s good to see you either way

KITCHEN SERVICE.

HEAD:
Hors d’oeuvres out in 3, ready?

ALL:
YES CHEF

HEAD:
Get plating, it’s going out during the video

sound of working

MICKEY:
The what?

EZRA:
The vid, you want to see it?

MICKEY:
I don’t know if I want…

CHEF 1:
You good? Don’t be fucking my dishes now bastard

MICKEY:
All good chef, look to your left, everything’s laid out, we’re ready

CHEF 1:
Ezra your man’s not bad

EZRA:
Thought you’d trust me by now, sounds like you’re set, we’ll be back in 5, taking Micky to see the main event

CHEF:
Hurry back now papi

jeering & kissing sounds

HEAD:
Where the fuck you going?

EZRA:
New hire chef, we’re golden not doing the plating, taking him to see the presentation

HEAD:
Fine, good for us all to know what we’re doing, if anything drags cos of you you’re gone, got it?

BOTH:
Yes chef

sound of them walking

EZRA:
Quick, up here

climbing stairs, door opens

MICKEY:
Jesus look at this place, wouldn’t recognise a fucking t—

EZRA:
Keep your voice down, this is their sacrament after all

MAITRE D’:
Ladies and gentlemen if I could have your attention please as the first part of tonight’s experience is served we have a small video presentation, a word from our donors polite applause I’m certain you’ll find it quite enlightening and, it should really sharpen those appetites

bigger applause

indistinct audio in the background

MICKEY:
wisperd Not sure I want to see this again…fuck me, almost forgot what we were doing….mate I can’t see this sober

EZRA:
wisperd Keep it together man, let’s get back, finish service, gonna be run ragged for the next few hours

sound of them going back down, door opening, sound of the kitchen

HEAD:
Just in time, get back to your station

CHEF 1:
You’re looking a little peaky putain, you see too much no?!

CHEF 2:
Didn’t expect you to bring someone so green they’d freak seeing how the sausage’s made, thought you were a pro newbie laughter

EZRA:
to Micky Ignore them, focus on the work, something that raw brings it home ay laughs

MICKEY:
We’re cooking him, this is him right here, we’re fucking–

EZRA:
No shit. Hold it together, got service to finish

HEAD:
We got a problem?

CHEF 2:
Ezra’s buddy’s cracking up

HEAD:
That right? Thought he’d be able to handle this, the stories you told me were grisly enough

EZRA:
Nah we’re good chef

HEAD:
Good, SERVICE!

EZRA:
Pull it together man, you can fall apart after, till then just think he wanted it and the care being given to his corpse is more than any of us will see, it’s a fucking tribute

MICKEY:
His corpse? A tribute?? To what?!

EZRA:
His sickness, their appetite

MICKEY:
You sick fuck then laughing goddamn, let’s get it done

CHEF 3:
laughs maybe we’ve got a keeper! cheers Wait till you get your pay, you’ll be happy as a clam then, can’t say many of us turn our back after one outing

fade out of kitchen sounds with the below over the top

MUSIC BREAK

MAITRE D’:
Congratulations! That’s the best one yet, there’ll be a bonus coming, never seen the congregation that happy. Here’s a gift from me to help with the clear down. Remember, the crew’s coming tomorrow to break down the site so just bag and bleach everything, enjoy the fizz laughs

leaves - sound of cheers

HEAD:
Hear that! Should be proud, grab a drink, lets clean down and get the fuck out of here

ALL:
YES CHEF

coming over to EZRA and MICKY

HEAD:
Glad you pulled it together, we’ll have a conversation when we’re out of here see if you fancy any more of this shite, once you see the money might be you can’t turn it down haaha

EZRA:
Nice one man, knew you’d pull through, got a bit dicey but we’re good, we’re fucking out

BANG OF DOORS GETTING KICKED OPEN, SHOUTS OF POLICE

POLICE / CHORUS:
NOBODY MOVE! NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!

MICKEY:
Fuck, FUCK! We’ve got to get out of here man—

everyone laughing

MAITRE D’:
Almost forgot, there’s fresh blood in the kitchen, you know what that means

HEAD:
Ah, course, you’re keeping me honest, Ezra, bring your mate over

MICKEY:
What’s this about Ezra?

EZRA:
Oh. Well, I might have misspoken when I said you didn’t have to join anything

MICKEY:
The fuck you talking about Ez?

EZRA:
Think of it like team building, you’ve done everything else, this is the final little step

MICKEY:
You’re joking right? This is still part of the prank, yeah?

HEAD:
We’ve all had a taste, this is your invitation to something bigger

OTHER CHEFS murmuring and agreeing in the background

EZRA:
Come on, don’t tell me you weren’t a little curious to taste your hard work mate, I know you better than that

MICKEY:
Dude–

EZRA:
We’ve kept a little plate of something special, be rude not to partake, it’s some of the choicest cuts

MICKEY:
Uhh

HEAD:
You fucking cooked him already, it was his dying wish to be enjoyed, that’s all your doing - honouring the dead

MICKEY:
Well–

EZRA:
It’ll help you see what it’s all for too

OTHER CHEFS calling words of encouragement, sound of a plate and cutlery being put on a table

MAITRE D’:
Go on lad, fake blokey copper accent don’t want to have to take you down the nick now do I laughs

A white plate sat on the clean metal countertop. There was a lump of braised meat in the centre sitting on top of mounded mushrooms shrouded in rich red-brown sauce. Steam rose from it in wavering lines filling the kitchen with the smell of savoury aromatic stew. Micky felt his mouth water as his stomach grumbled, it was empty. He was hungry.

pause

cheers etc

He parted a piece, knife passing through with no resistance, filled his fork with mushrooms then swiped it over the plate to coat it in sauce. The smell filled his nostrils, a spatter of saliva dropping from his lip as he took it into his mouth. The flavour rolled over him as it hit his tongue. It took him away, in his head he was flying.

HEAVY BREATHING THEN HUNGRY HUNGRY EATING

EZRA:
Good lad, good lad, He’s off now, be meeting our employer soon enough let’s leave him to it.

Micky didn’t hear anything as the rest of the kitchen staff left the room, arm in arm, singing

SAME CHANTING FROM HARVEST

---

The Narrator:
You really must be careful who to associate with these days. Everyone has some sort of hidden motive, some duplicitous fuel keeping their engine ticking, driving them forwards while undermining you. I don’t much like the sound of that hungry god, a supernatural being that hasn’t figured out how to satisfy their cravings seems like a cheap and tawdry sort. Certainly not one worthy of those sort of sacrifices! No, no, if I were to suborn myself to another they would have to be remote and prepossessed, utterly indifferent to my devotion, silent in the face of any entreaties and aloof to any offerings or sacrifice.

Still, I rather fancied a taste of that dish at the end, regardless of the provenance of the meat, like Ezra said, it would be rude not to have a morsel. Though I imagine it would be a moment on the lips and a lifetime on the soul, not much getting around that taboo.

I’ve noticed a rather troubling thread linking all these stories together. I’ve hinted at it here and there in my previous musings, and of course there was that ugly scene with Antonio and Daniel. But for the slow ones at the back, or those who haven’t been paying close enough attention, I’ll spell it out. Keep a weather eye on your back and surround yourself with those who have earned your trust or else you’ll end up like Micky, a willing slave trapped by past decisions. Though I suppose the filthy lucre and a mouthful of man parts sweetens the pot a bit.

We’ve moved farther than I thought we ever would from the whimsy of our earlier tales. No, no, now all we have are the consequences of poor judgement flailing in ignorance playing out on the backdrop of sad gray lives. I would hate for you to suffer anything like the same fate dear listener, the very idea fills me with horror! Though, I know I have little to worry about, you’ve been listening to this show after all. And, even if there is an end fast approaching, as we’ve been shown continually, reality writes itself.