Recently printed in the news (true report):
Chef Convicted of 2nd Degree Murder
In the case of a Los Angeles chef who killed his wife and claims he disposed of the body by boiling it for four days, justice has been served.
After five and a half hours of deliberation, the jury convicted David Viens of second-degree murder. Viens betrayed no emotion as the verdict was read, although he faces 15 years to life in prison. He will be sentenced in November.
Viens had told investigators that he slow-cooked his wife in a 55-lb pot before draining her fat and then hiding her skull in the attic of his mother’s house.
Husband and wife sitting in their living room after he reads the story to her.
Wow, what a story, huh?
What is the world coming to?
Who would have thought of serving a spousal consommé?
Was that a joke?
Yes. I’m still shuddering at the thought of butchering her in order to get her into a pot.
And what spices to add?
Wow. You know me too well, and that’s not funny.
I wonder what you’d serve for the second course.
Pickled chef’s tongue, if you ask me, and husband haricot if you keep this up.
Ouch. Just don’t invite the Wilson’s, they’re vegetarians.
I know better than that. Besides, Doris would probably ask if the soup was fattening.
Ha, little would she know how much fat there might have been originally in the soup.
Tee-hee. Not funny.
You know, this would be a great TV show. Better than Rachel Ray.
Hmm. What would you call it?
“Cooking with Spouses”?
Let’s get really sexy here. How about “Hot Wives in the Kitchen”?
Ugh. And too limiting for my tastes.
Was that joke at my expense?
Hey, I was thinking instead of boiling, he could have baked her for three hours.
Yuch. You’re sicker than he is.
Wait. We could have made an excellent sauce to go with her and then…
What? And invite Emeril onto the show to explain how to make the sauce?
Exactly, my dear. This is why I married you.
And while we’re at it, we ought to cook your no account brother who’s always mooching
And drinking my beer! And, I’d add your mother to the list, too, while we’re at it.
Now you’ve gone too far!
Not funny. I’m not talking to you anymore.
Whoo-whoo. Punish me more.