Saturday, March 28, 2009

The Story Told 1000 Times

I read about this girl once. She was five foot nine, weighed about 1000 pounds, and dear Jesus it was horrifying. I wondered what she'd taste like if they killed her and cooked her. Cutting off the fat would be hard, but I have a feeling it'd taste like McDonald's. French fried human meat, mmm.

I read about this guy once. He was seven foot ten, weighed more than me but was skinny, and dear Moses it was gruesome. Couldn't walk, fit in doorways, couldn't even go into some buildings because the ceiling was too low. I wondered if he'd constantly hit his head on the ceiling before so many times that he'd get a concussion. Bloody heads are delicious, mmm.

I read about this kid once. He was three foot six, weighed normal weight- but his face was, dear Lord Almighty, atrocious. Had gotten into a bad accident with a tractor trailer. Or a bulldozer. Don't remember. People would look at him, and make fun- and he was only seven...maybe twelve. Couldn't get into schools because he distracted classes too much, and his medical treatment became too important. Dragged him out of class. I wondered if he ever tore off a piece of him when he got hungry and ate it. Bulldozed baby face, mmm.

I read about this old man once. He was five foot four, weighed about a hundred pounds but probably less- and dear Joseph and Mary, it was dreadful. You could his ribs, and bones. Almost like he was a walking skeleton with a thin layer of skin. Had no hair, no teeth- and they even showed how his heartbeat could be seen through the skin. I wondered if he tasted like onions like old people smell like. Aged human with a onion twang, mmm.

I read about this baby once. It didn't say how big she was, but dear saintliness, was she weird looking. She had an eyeball on her palm, and one on her knee. She had hair all on her chest, and no eyes in her sockets or hair on her head. Like they transplanted it all there. They had no cure for her, but they tried operating on her- and she died of complications with the appendix rupturing. I wondered if the appendix exploding over the insides made her taste any different. Appendix soaked baby meat, mmm.

I told this story to some people once. It was about how I liked to try new things to eat. So they came over to my house and I took them to my basement. I showed them my cutting board and utensils, and dear Satan, was it ugly. Blood all over the place from the cows, the ducks, the chickens. I forgot to clean off my axe, my knives, my everything. They saw a moose head I stuffed and mounted, and asked what it tasted like. I told them it tasted like what they thought it would taste like, and they said "mmm".

I told them the story of me capturing the moose. It was a hunt in the woods nearby that I shot and killed it, and dear Buddha, was it foul. The body was torn to pieces by the shots I had to take, and little of the meat was left. But I was able to scrounge for what I could, and ate it. I told them it tasted exactly like I thought it would taste like, mmm.

They told me their story of wanting to try more foods. It was a strong desire from when they tried to go hunting and killed a deer, and by golly, was it gruesome. They told me about how they had shot the head by accident, the brains had splattered all over some concrete. I wondered what they'd taste like. Brains with a light seasoning of gravel and dirt, mmm.

Now I'll you the story of them trying something new. I offered them to try something new and they agreed. I grabbed them a hatchet, a knife- something sharp to cut with and gave it to each of them. I made them put their hands palm down on my cutting board. I made them chop down, practicing cutting. Told them to go faster. One of them accidentally cut off his finger. We quickly bandaged his hand, and put the finger on ice. I made a pot of hot water for tea. When he said he was fine, and had calmed down- had stopped bleeding- I put his finger in the pot. We tried it, but it didn't taste very good for was a health nut and we needed some fat in it. Boiled human finger with a side of fat, mmm.

Now that's what I call a meal.

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