In a dark bunker somewhere in the countryside, a television crackles to life. Wires attached to the set spark and sputter as video comes through.
It’s black and white, revealing a pristine countertop surrounded by kitchen implements in various states of disrepair.
“Good Evening, Audience!” a charismatic masculine voice shouts from off-screen.
A man in a white suit makes his way from screen left, waving to an applauding audience behind the camera.
The music accompanying him is distinctly seventies. He gives a dashing smile, bringing the clapping to a halt with a thumbs-up.
“Thank you, thank you! I’m sorry if I kept you all waiting. You know how those Subway Scav-Rats can be!” he jokes.
The audience laughs as he nods to them, letting the joke ride out.
He noticeably begins to sweat and takes a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing his forehead. The smile on his face falters for a microsecond before he puffs up.
“Anyway, the recipe I have for you today is a special one! And it’s easy, too! For this one, you’ll only need to grab ingredients from the outskirts and streets! That’s right folks, no need to risk limb or life by going into the skyscrapers!” He proudly announces.
The man gestures to screen right.
An assistant, dressed in tattered chef’s clothing, carts in plates of food, showing off a smile to the audience. They gasp at the contents of the cart.
The host begins salivating, his hands twitching at the sight before he composes himself again.
“Yes, yes, today we’ll be cooking up together some of the most exotic building-side ingredients. We’ve got everything from Pigeon egg, Deer leg, bits of cat here and there, street reeds, streetside roses, and of course our show’s signature: River Broth to add that extra urban spice!”
The audience applauds as the assistant walks off screen.
“Folks, these were not even that hard to find! The team got most of these bits from the side of the Langeles Bak Tower! The Denizens there are particularly messy about their leftovers, so we had minimal losses recovering this!”
“But before we get into the thick of it, let’s hear a word from our sponsors!”
The bunker shakes for a moment as something above ground stomps. The picture on the T.V. gives out for a second, revealing a screen that reads:
Broadcast Replay: Chef Larry’s Langeles Fine & Dine’s! EXCERPT DATE 12/12/12XXX
The rumbling stops, allowing the Television to go back to its previous images.
The man on the T.V. has most of the ingredients spread out across the counter. He is marinating something in a pot while simultaneously flipping the pigeon eggs.
“Folks, it doesn’t get any better than this! Show this to your colony and you’ll be the talk of the town for years! It’s surprising to see what They ended up leaving behind nearly four hundred years ago!”
The man expertly flips the fried Pigeon eggs onto a full plate of food, while extracting what appears to be meat from the marinade pan. He delicately places it on top of the food plate, while drizzling the marinade across the palette. The host leans in to take a sniff, reveling in its scent.
The smile from his face wipes into a hungry grin. He leans down, almost grabbing the food right from the plate. Realizing his misstep, he stands again.
“But of course, a dish like this doesn’t come without its creative inventor, so let’s bring him out! Chef Gordonson, can you come and explain what you did to make such a fan-tastic recipe?”
A muscled tank of a man lumbers onto screen. Easily feet higher than the host and comically dressed in undersized chef’s gear, Gordonson timidly walks out, giving a small wave to the cheering audience. The Chef’s muscles stretch and bulge his outfit as he walks and waves. A button from near the collar explodes from its spot, hitting something off screen with a loud TWANG. Gordonson shakes the host’s hand with a smile. The host returns it in kind, though he mostly ignores Gordonson to stare at the food.
“So, Gordonson, what can you tell us about the meal you’ve made today?”
Chef Gordonson straightens up and takes a deep breath.
“WELL, ME AND THE BOYS WERE EXPLORIN’ THE SIDE STREETS BETWEEN FIFTH N’ THIRD WHEN ONE DAY MARTY- THAT’S JAN’S OLD MATE, BY THE WAY, ASKED TO HELP MAKE A MEAL,” Gordonson explains in a Cockney accent, “AND I SAYS, ‘SOUNDS GOOD MARTY.’ ANYWAYS, HE WONDERED WHAT IF WE ONLY GIT STUFF FROM THE OUTSKIRTS SO THEM DENIZENS DON’T CRAWL OUT FROM ONE OF DEM’ BUILDINGS? GENIUS IDEA, THAT ONE WAS. AT THE END OF IT ALL, WE GOTS ALL OUR INGREDIENTS AND I WAS ABLE TO THROW IT TOGETHA INTO THE FINE MEAL BEFORE YA!”
Chef Gordonson bows as the audience claps politely. The host lets out a smile and gestures for Gordonson to leave the stage, shaking his hand before the cook makes his exit. Gordonson’s stomps are audible, each footfall causing the host to wince a little.
“Well, wasn’t that certainly a treat? Audience, I hate to say it, but that’s all the time I have for today! Hope you all enjoy your meal wherever you are! And remember…”
The man makes a broad sweeping gesture out to the audience.
“Nobody knows Langeles like Larry!” The audience shouts.
The host proudly bows before almost literally diving into the plate of food, ravenously eating it with the energy of a starving animal. His loud, voracious chewing is drowned out by the exit music, fading in the text “Chef Larry’s Langeles Fine & Dine’s!” Credits begin to roll.
Suddenly, one last rumble shakes the bunker, causing the television to finally give out. A clawed hand curls into a fist before slamming into the T.V., destroying it.