“I’m sure you’ll find this dish to your liking. It’s one of our most unusual and highly requested- for the more cultured diner,” the sides of his mouth twitched with pride, tiny beads of sweat ran to meet each other and dived in enthusiastic rivulets.

“I’m sure we will. Thank you very much.”

The silver top of the dish was lifted, the shine of condensation mirroring the shine of his bloated red face. On the tray, nestled snuggly in a bed of garnish, another face stared back at the eager diners blankly.

“Would you like any dipping sauce? Perhaps more wine?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well. Enjoy.”

The couple shared a mildly amused glance. As if they had never eaten human before. As if they were just some poor, common Joe and Jane Anybody.

He began to cut enthusiastically, carving off an ear. “Did someone make their order to Van Gogh?” he chuckled, his crisp white cuffs turning scarlet.

“Oh, you,” she smiled, taking the ear from him and taking a dainty bite before leaning forward for a kiss. When she pulled away, both of their lips shone juicy and red in the candlelight.