Although she looks like she's giving you the old "Not tonight, I have a headache" brush-off, Suzie is actually seasoned and ready to go.
A piano-top torch singer at Le Suicide Food, she pours her heart (and later her veins) out twice a night (three times on Sundays). Her specialty: a vomitous mingling of sex and violence. It's all there, as blatant as any suicidefoodist imagery we've ever seen. Beautiful racks and bodacious butts. The equation (meat = woman) couldn't be more plain. Like a madam, Suzie is in the business of flesh-peddling, moving those pieces of meat/ass. She'll even make herself available for the right client and the right price.
Unfortunately for Suzie, her career's grand finale will take the form of an orgy of warring emotions that can culminate only with the bloody sacrifice of the virgin/whore/pig. And that will be that. The poor midwestern girl, raised and fattened in the stockyards of Chicago, will be devoured by a hungry public professing its love to the end, to the very last morsel.
We would be remiss if we failed to mention this sow's resemblance to Miss Piggy, a character noted for the same conflicting emotions: consuming love for Kermit the Frog and murderous rage directed at anyone who crossed her. It's another expression of the confused conflation of sex and death. But for lovers of good barbecue and horrifying sexual drama, it's a damn fine night out.