Pork Cheeks with a Glass of 1990 Cab.

Come to Jonas's high-end delicacy restaurant. Politicians come. Actors and actresses come. Why shouldn't you?

He sat beautifully placed and perfectly naked. His eyes kept peacefully shut while his hands fluttered throughout the air, as if conducting the already composed song that sang aloud from his vintage vinyl player; the sounds of violins mixed with a dash of piano always took him to a musical world where he reinvented himself as the creator. No doubt the wine residue stretching across his mouth that almost formed a twisted "Chelsea Smile," was a sure sign that he was a quite lit. But he always played inebriation off so brilliantly.

 

His body laid flat and comfortable against a large, expensive and very high functioning oven door that generated heat from the tender hunk of meat that he had broiling inside it. He'd been patiently waiting now, for at least two hours, sipping on wine and listening to blissful instrumental music.

 

Finally his ear twitched from the long-anticipated sound of a buzzer ringing just above the jets on the stove. When his eyes opened wide, the size of his pupils lessened and his hands stopped in mid-air to abandon his pseudo orchestra. It was time, indeed. Time to dine?-No. It was time to prepare this evenings "Specials". So he picked up his body with grace and grabbed the empty wine glass that sat beside him, along too. In his world, almost every exciting endeavor, whether new or old, came with a glass of Pinot Noir. Not just any either, the finest he had. The kind he wouldn’t even break the seal to give one of his regular customers the tiniest sip.

 

He hummed tones quite similar to what he had been listening to, which no doubt, was a tune overused in his world. His naked body was tight and fit. He stood in immaculate shape, even for a man well off in his 60’s by now. Everything hung free and if society deemed it worthy, he'd never put clothes back on; his butt muscles clenched tightly with the usage of his legs. His genitals slightly swung in the air. Everything around him resembled to an exact, to be a high end built in kitchen for a high end built in restaurant. There was a salad line, a meat line, a fryer, fans, heat lamps, bright lights that dangled from the ceiling and an exit door that swung both ways.

 

Jonas. His name was Jonas, and he started this business when he was just a young lad in his twenties. Needless to say, he’s become quite successful and might have generated more money than Jesus himself. But there was a reason: He was the cook, and a damn fine and smart one at that.  Strange and unusual delicacies were his number one attraction and you know rich people and their tendencies to eat unfamiliar things, solely because they had the cash, and in the process it made them seem a bit more…elegant, if you would. He had actors, musicians, big time Wall Street folk and even powerful politicians travel on planes just to get a single bite of what people were calling, “The Best Strangest Meats in the World”. 

 

It was 4 in the morning and as weird as cooking at 4 in the morning was, this was just another ritualistic tendency for Jonas. He didn't sleep when normal people slept, he was awkward that way. But it was when he got everything done. Despite probably having a home much larger than yours, he practically lived in his restaurant. Naturally, given its success, it was the biggest piece of him and he’d be 100 years old, when his time came, having God or the Devil pulling him out kicking and screaming for just one more creative dish to the public. 

 

One more glass, and he filled it to the tip, leaving only less than an inch left at the top; however it lasted only a few seconds and he put it right back to let the ruby red wine flow down his warm throat. Then came his glorious moment, a moment that never got old to Jonas. He pulled open the oven door and let the scent of a beautiful thing smack him directly in the face, which forced a smile out of it. He slipped on his plain, white mittens and grabbed the hot pan that the meat sat on to gently place it onto his flaying metal counter.

 

“What will it be today?” He thought to himself. Well, homing to the top of the pan sat the lonesome head of woman. Her hair was shaved off, but still with some scattered black strands that steamed from the heat. Her eyes must have exploded inside of the oven, as thick white goo dripped down all the way to the base of the pan. She was the perfect tone of brown, and Jonas prided himself on always getting that one right on the money.

 

Glamorously, Jonas danced around his kitchen, starting up his pseudo orchestra once again. His work was coming close to complete as he slow danced himself over to the knife rack to grab the thin sharp one and dance his way back over to his project.

 

“Tonight, I’m thinking…Hm…” Jonas said as he carved both the woman’s cheeks clean off. “Tonight, I’m thinking ‘Pork Cheeks.’-That would go so intelligently with a 1990 Cab.” He sliced and sliced.

 

Below him, under his flaying metal table, laid a naked, headless corpse. Her breasts perked out and her genitals uncloaked and fairly haired. Suddenly, around him various buzzers began to ring from different stoves all around the kitchen. And Jonas became nothing but all smiles.