Tuesday, January 17, 2012

1/11/12 - The Tasting Menu

12:34 PM

Matre'd: Right this way, gentlemen. As per your request we have gotten you the best table in the house.

Dir. Straffer: The most secure table in the house, I trust.

Matre'd: Yes, of course. No one will be disturbing you, here. I trust your accompanying guards will be comfortable?

SPYGOD: Yeah. Get them anything they want.

Matre'd: Anything... um... yes.

SPYGOD: Most of them'll be happy with takeout from across the street, but if anyone wants to gets fancy, let 'em have it. They earned it. 

Dir. Straffer: But nothing for the robots. They don't require any sustenance, and they'd just be confused by the question. And I'd advise your employees to give them a wide berth. They tend to start punching first and ask questions... well, they don't ask questions. That's my job.

Matre'd: Of course, gentlemen. I'll leave you to yourselves.

Dir. Straffer: Ah, alone at last.

SPYGOD: I thought that meddlesome little !@#$ was never going to leave.

Dir Straffer: Oh, but they left us a bottle. How thoughtful of them.

SPYGOD: They didn't. I did.

Dir. Straffer: Oh? You picked us out some wine? I thought you were more of a beer drinker.

SPYGOD: Normally, yes. But I'm pretty proud of this one.

Dir Straffer: Chateau d'Solomon 1961? My favorite. How did you...?

SPYGOD: SPYGOD knows all.

Dir Straffer: I'll say. I didn't think there were any bottles left after that sad little accident in '98. Can you believe someone blew the place up? A tragedy.

SPYGOD: Well, you can thank Ben for that.

Dir. Straffer: The explosion?

SPYGOD: No, the bottle. Dirty !@#$ has a wine cellar that defies the laws of time and space.

Dir Straffer: As do so many things in our respective professions. A toast?

SPYGOD: To a much closer working relationship?

Dir. Straffer: I think we already have that. How about to comrades in arms, and friends in need?

SPYGOD: And !@#$ expensive restaurants to pillage at the battle's end?

Dir Straffer: Amen to that.

Waiter: Ah, gentlemen. Good evening. Here are the menus for the evening-

Dir Straffer: We'll take the Chef's Tasting Menu. With the supplements. Take your time.

Waiter: Ah, yes. Excellent choice. I'll see to it.

SPYGOD: !@#$ me. You're the man with the plan.

Dir. Straffer: Not on the first date, (REDACTED) *wink*


Dir. Straffer: Will you be alright with the wine or should we try and whistle up some beer? There's a decent place around the corner. We could send one of your boys out with a list?

SPYGOD: You know, I think I'm going to enjoy sitting on the other side of the fence, tonight.

Dir. Straffer: I'll drink to that.

"Sabayon" of Pearl Tapioca with Beau Soleil Oysters
and Sterling White Sturgeon Caviar

SPYGOD: One little thimbleful of food. This reminds me of that !@#$ Wendy's commercial.

Dir. Straffer: Yes, my dear (REDACTED). The whole idea is that you have one scrumptious bite, which you enjoy to the utmost. And then, just as you've finally gotten your head wrapped around the magnificent taste... it's gone.

SPYGOD: ... It still reminds of that !@#$ Wendy's commercial.

Dir. Straffer: Should we send one of your boys out for burgers and fries?

SPYGOD: !@#$ no. I owe you this, after what you did for me.

Dir. Straffer: But...?

SPYGOD: Next time, we go someplace else. I know this one place where they serve steaks that drape over the edge of the table.

Dir. Straffer: Really? Do you get your photo taken if you eat the whole thing?

SPYGOD: No, but they give you mini-chainsaws, torch it next to your table, and let you eat it while it's still twitching.

Dir. Straffer: Where in god's name is this restaurant?

SPYGOD: Osaka. They call it the Beefhouse. It's a little wild.

Dir. Straffer: I can't take you anywhere. Eat your pearls.

SPYGOD: Well now, no rushing. I want to take the time and savor this little morsel. It'll probably be half an hour before they bring the next course out-

Dir. Straffer: Eat. 

SPYGOD: Yes, sir.

Smoked Sturgeon "Bavarois," Compressed English Cucumbers
and Pumpernickel "Pain Perdu"

SPYGOD: Well that was interesting. Reminded me of auntsandwiches.

Dir. Straffer: Auntsandwiches?

SPYGOD: Yeah. Little cut sandwiches you serve with tea. Mostly cucumbers and mayo, sometimes ham salad. It's something of a New England kind of thing. 

Dir. Straffer: Your kind of thing?
SPYGOD: No, but you get invited to enough swishy dos at enough lawmakers' homes, up and down the coast, you get plied with just about every substance known to man. 

Dir. Straffer: Ah. Well, I don't get invited to anything, really. I stay upstairs in my control room and look down. I think they prefer that.

SPYGOD: You miss it, much?

Dir. Straffer: Sometimes. It's lonely up there, even with my people around. After a while you get tired of seeing the same old faces and hearing the same old stories. It's something of a relief when someone finally cracks up and has to be sent downside. It means we'll finally get someone new in.

SPYGOD: And you guys' entrance requirements are basically 'are you crazy enough to live in space for years at a time'?

Dir. Straffer: 'Dedicated.' The word is 'dedicated.' 

SPYGOD: 'Crazy.' Same kind of crazy you need in the submarine corps. 

Dir. Straffer: Toe-MAY-Toe, Toe-MAH-Toe.

SPYGOD: "Let's call the whole thing off..."

Dir. Straffer: You know that one?

SPYGOD: Um, hello? Gay as !@#$? If you don't know showtunes, they revoke your card. 

Dir. Straffer: Ha! I'd like to see them try and take mine. 

SPYGOD: I'll drink that that. 

Nasturtium Capers, Petite Parsley,
Brioche and Brown Butter

Dir. Straffer: Okay, that I could have done without. I do not like cauliflower.

SPYGOD: I don't know. It had a certain... je ne sans quoi.

Dir. Straffer: You pronounced it "genie sasquatch"

SPYGOD: Ah, never any !@#$ good at French. 

Dir. Straffer: After all the opportunities you had to learn it while you were there?

SPYGOD: Didn't really !@#$ have much of a chance. I was too busy dodging bullets and breaking people. 

Dir. Straffer: Well, it's a lovely language. I prefer German, myself. 

SPYGOD: Your parents?

Dir. Straffer: My father. West Berliner. Met my mother when she was doing attache work at the American embassy. Flowers bloomed, rockets flared. I was born in New York City not long thereafter. 

SPYGOD: Really? So traveling's kind of in your blood, then?
Dir. Straffer: Are you kidding me? I hate it. I get airsick all the time. I inherited that from mom, apparently.

SPYGOD: So how did you wind up in !@#$ outer space?

Dir. Straffer: Well, there's a story...

Celery Root Cream, Grapefruit Marmalade,
Castelfranco Lettuce and Black Winter Truffle

SPYGOD: ... wow, that is some story.

Dir. Straffer: Yeah. Who would have thought? Put me in a plane, I need ten bags. Put me on a rocket, I'm fine. 

SPYGOD: That does kind of explain why you stay up there.

Dir. Straffer: More to do with the responsibility. Every time I'm away for too long, I suspect something's going seriously wrong up there. And when I get back, I'm always right. Someone forgot to push the right button at the right time, and suddenly there's a war fleet parked outside Jupiter's orbit, and we have to persuade them to leave the Solar System a little later than I'd like.

SPYGOD: That sounds pretty hairy. 

Dir. Straffer: Yeah, well, I have this new Second up there. New girl. Fresh out of the training program. So far she has not let me down, so this is something of a baptism of fire for her. I come back and anything's wrong, and she's going to be jogging from platform to platform for the next month.

SPYGOD: Ha! I just make them clean the underside of The Carrier. 

Dir. Straffer: Right. How's that coming along?


Dir. Straffer: Oh. Sorry. Forget I asked?

SPYGOD: Naah, it's okay. It's just !@#$ frustrating. I should have gotten the repairs approved and the reconstruction underway by now. It's all stalled in red tape and budget cuts. We'll be lucky to get a butt!@#$ out of it when Washington's done.

Dir. Straffer: Sounds like you already got one.

SPYGOD: Yes, exactly-

Crispy Spätzle, Ruby Beets and Whole Grain Mustard

SPYGOD: How do you keep them convinced they shouldn't cut your funding? 

Dir. Straffer: Well... it's something of a trade secret. But in the spirit of increased cooperation? 

SPYGOD: I'm all ears.

Dir. Straffer: Show them how many crises you averted. Constantly. With photos. For example, that war fleet outside of Jupiter? The appropriations committee got stacks of information, including scale drawings of their gun ports, and firsthand descriptions of the last planet they attacked. You do that often enough, no one will say no to you. 

SPYGOD: Hmmm. That's not a bad idea.

Dir. Straffer: It's a great idea. I mean, HONEYCOMB. Does Congress really understand how bad these people actually were?  

SPYGOD: I thought they did. I keep trying to make the point, but-

Dir. Straffer: See, you're a victim of your own success. 

SPYGOD: Really?

Dir. Straffer: Totally. A lot of the tech terrorist groups' rhetoric is so overblown at times that I think they forget just what they're capable of, except as a thought exercise or a news story they glossed over a few months back. You have to keep selling them on the idea that our enemies are active and dangerous, and you're the one keeping them from getting worse. 

SPYGOD: So what do you suggest?

Dir. Straffer: Well...

Applewood Smoked Bacon, Pearson Farm’s Pecans,
Sweet Potato Mousse, Watercress and "Vin Jaune"

SPYGOD: That's all?

Dir. Straffer: Well, you have to admit, it's pretty foolproof. And they'll never know it wasn't a complete setup as long as you keep the conspiracy small and tight.

SPYGOD: You're including yourself in this, I trust?

Dir. Straffer: Well, I just gave you the idea. If you run with it, I can't be blamed.

SPYGOD: Come on, now. In for a penny, in for a !@#$.

Dir. Straffer: You drive a hard bargain, sir.

SPYGOD: That's what they tell me. 

Crispy Sunchokes, Compressed Arrowleaf Spinach,
Medjool Dates and Foie Gras-Madeira Emulsion

Dir. Straffer: That's a sunchoke?

SPYGOD: Not quite what I was expecting, either.

Dir. Straffer: Well, no. It's just after that one episode of Venture Brothers I was expecting something a little more... weird.

SPYGOD: What, the one where The Monarch gets an allergic reaction? I was !@#$ my pants laughing to that one!

Dir. Straffer: Isn't that the greatest show ever? It's like they looked at us and cranked up the parody factor by about ten.

SPYGOD: Sealab 2021?

Dir. Straffer: Until the leader died. Then it was terrible. Space: 1999?

SPYGOD: Until they brought on that !@#$ metamorph and got rid of half the interesting cast members. Then it !@#$ sucked. UFO?

Dir. Straffer: Please. They based that show on us. 

SPYGOD: No way. Wonderwall isn't that old?

Dir. Straffer: Time travel is a weird thing, my friend. You remember how crazy the 70's were.

SPYGOD: ... Oh. 

Dir. Straffer: Oh. 

SPYGOD: That was you?
Dir. Straffer: That was me, yes. 

SPYGOD: You son of a!@#$. You owe me a new car!

Dir. Straffer: I'll make up for it. Promise.

SPYGOD: Oh, do tell. 

Black Trumpet Mushrooms, Broccolini, Pearl Onions,
Pea Tendrils and "Beurre Colbert"

SPYGOD: Snake river, huh?

Dir. Straffer: Beurre Colbert?

SPYGOD: Does it pretend to be something it's not but is so funny you don't !@#$ care?

Dir. Straffer: I don't care. It was delicious.

SPYGOD: Mission accomplished, then.

Dir. Straffer: Ask you a question?

SPYGOD: You just did. Pour me some more?

Dir. Straffer: Better be careful, the bottle's almost empty.

SPYGOD: Aha! I brought two.

Dir. Straffer: Oh, excellent. 

SPYGOD: Your question?

Dir. Straffer: Being out. 


Dir. Straffer: What's it like?

SPYGOD: You mean you aren't...?

Dir. Straffer: No. I had to keep certain things quiet in my branch. I never busted anyone for it as long as they didn't break any rules on top of it, but it's been something of an annoyance all this time. But now I can do something about it, thanks to our current President.

SPYGOD: Well, it's weird. A lot of people will pretend they're okay with it when they really aren't, kind of like trying to ignore an ugly wart on the end of your nose, or the fact that your breath smells like someone's !@#$hole. And a lot of people are so okay with it that you wonder if they're hiding something, themselves, or are trying to make up for having been a !@#$ about it in the past.

Dir. Straffer: And what about the phobes?

SPYGOD: Oh, !@#$ them. You are one of the most powerful persons on the planet. You give an order and something gets vaporized from !@#$ orbit. If they don't like what you do with your !@#$, what do they !@#$ matter?

Dir. Straffer: Is that what made you come out? A lack of fear?

SPYGOD: Well, it's a long story. Bottom line is that I owed it to all the people who were drummed out before my time, after it, to be as visible as possible. I essentially told them "I'm here, I'm queer, and I killed Hitler so you aren't getting rid of me. Suck it."

Dir. Straffer: Who did you tell it to?
SPYGOD: Nixon. He didn't !@#$ like it, but he couldn't do !@#$.

Dir. Straffer: And then he was gone.

SPYGOD: Funny how that happened...

"Pipérade," Fennel Bulb, Marcona Almond Tuile and Arugula

Dir. Straffer: I love rocket.

SPYGOD: You take one to work everyday.

Dir. Straffer: No, rocket. Arugula. 

SPYGOD: Arugula?

Dir. Straffer: That's what rocket is.

SPYGOD: Your rocket is made out of arugula?

Dir. Straffer: No, it's made out of... oh, !@#$ you. *laughs*

SPYGOD: All ten inches?

Dir. Straffer: *laughs*

SPYGOD: Does it get you to work and back?

Dir. Straffer: It takes me a lot of places. 

SPYGOD: I bet.

Dir. Straffer: Is this where you get crude and ask for a ride?

SPYGOD: This is where I offer you a trip to the Moon and back on mine.

Dir. Straffer: What if I'm more of a driver than a rider?

SPYGOD:... We could take turns?

Dir. Straffer: Is there another bottle? 

SPYGOD: Back at The B.U.I.L.D.I.N.G.

Dir. Straffer: You talked me into it.

SPYGOD: Um... dessert?

Dir. Straffer: That's us. Your boys can fight over it. 

SPYGOD: !@#$-A. 

Marinated Pineapple, Young Coconut Water
and Pineapple Chips

Candied Spanish Peanuts, Smoked Chocolate Pudding,
Peanut Butter Marshmallow and Graham Cracker Ice Cream

Poached Golden Apples, "Sablé Breton," Champagne "Parfait"
and Bay Leaf-Juniper Ice Cream

(Bite-sized desserts, usually served at the end of a meal)

Matre'D: I hope everything was alright with the meal?

Agent 1: Yeah, I think the boss and the director just wanted to go somewhere and... um, digest a bit.

Agent 2: Yep: Digest.

Agent 1: That's what the kids are calling it these days, anyway.

Robot: Please. Bring. Me. More. Petit. Fours. Human.

(SPYGOD is listening to Positive Role Model (Pet Shop Boys) and having some Chateau d'Salomon 1961)

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