Love Bite

I’m a big fan of delayed gratification. Like when rewards elude me, or when my schedule keeps pizza, television and the girlfriend just out of arm’s reach (pizza and Arianna hate me right now; television never loved me). My brain grows radioactive with desire. The anticipation of release cranks exponentially tighter. Then, suddenly–

–I’m finally, actually reading a graphic novel I bought a month ago. And let me join the chorus in screaming that Chew, an Image title by writer John Layman and artist Rob Guillory, is orgasmically original. It stars Tony Chu, a man who “gets psychic impressions from whatever he eats,” as a detective with the FDA’s Special Crimes Division.

Yeah, I said it. The Food & Drug Administration deals with crimes that regular police can’t–because in Chew, chicken is illegal. Now, before delving into this narratively, I’d like to boldly proclaim that this is the kind of conceit a comedy writer might trade his liver to have thought up. On top of that, I had a Homer Simpson moment, on my knees, in my pajamas, howling, “Why do you mock me, O Lord?” regarding my delay in reading it.

But, about those psychic impressions. When Tony bites an apple, he can (strongly) taste where it grew, when it was harvested, and any pesticides used. He can also bite a burger and (literally) see the cow’s skull get hammered. The only food item neutral to him, that he can enjoy, are beets (pick a Dwight Schrute joke, any joke).

And, about that chicken prohibition. It’s the result of the government’s war on bird flu, unless you believe Tony’s celebrity chef brother, who ranted live on air while forced to cook with the bland substitute Poultfree: “No disrespect to the people who died, but this was never about birds. The government has an agenda, and this bird flu hoax is at the heart of it.”

This is political satire at its absolute finest. Tony and his partner John Colby sit on a stakeout, watching people leave an abandoned upholstery studio in the dead of night. They let one scrawny, nervous guy sneak past with “a breast and a couple of wings” because he “probably blew his entire paycheck on it.” They also see someone who “must be carrying twenty-five pounds or more. Uncooked.” The presence of African American poultry kingpin D-Bear (drawn with pimpin’ glee by Guillory) superbly heightens both the humor and commentary.

Then there’s some cop-show mayhem, following the scene in which Tony sips his illegal chicken soup and tastes the blood of a serial killer. His partner Colby takes a meat cleaver to the skull, and Tony ends up biting the face of his downed perp in lieu of an interrogation.

Naturally, the commentary becomes much spicier. Tony investigates a McBeefy’s restaurant, where the highway sign, missing an n, says, “Come Di e With Us.” Here, he encounters some uncooperative zit-boys behind the counter, but also the woman of his dreams, Mercury-Sun food critic Amelia Mintz. Where Tony is cibopathic, she’s a saboscrivner, meaning: “She can write about food so accurately, so vividly and with such precision, people get the actual sensation of taste when reading [her reviews].”

With a bouncy charm to match his artist, Layman sets up the pair by having Amelia write a slew of negative reviews. All over town, citizens reading her throw up, then wait angrily in the Mercury-Sun‘s lobby for face-time. Tony’s assigned to investigate, and there meets a sketchy little man who wants Amelia to taste something that glows from within a box. The guy–a short Steve Buscemi with nut brown skin–thinks it’s a fruit. Yum.

There’s more to Chew: Taster’s Choice, but who knows when my masochistic self will dig back in. It’s almost 2PM and that pizza isn’t going to eat itself.