We had Another Friend for Dinner

We had Another Friend for Dinner

A Chapter by Jonathan Bryant Dean
"

The second Chapter in my "Dinner Time" series.

"

We have had a guest for the past year, and he is a friend, so it is time to have him for dinner. He is a short fellow, with red hair and a red beard. He has a tendency to be cocky at times, but we still like having him around.

 

He has been well fed and given his choice of several chicks with whom to seek pleasure. He is popular with the chicks around here. In fact he has impregnated several of the chicks. And not a one of them was ever angry with him. None of them ever carried to term though.

Since we did not need any little ones running around we aborted those fetuses before they were fully developed. Oh, the thought makes my mouth water a little. Mmmm, I love the taste of a fetus. I some times soak some toasted bread in the cooked fetus and eat it. There is always a little bit that dribbles on my chin. But enough talk about the appetizer, we have to deal with the main course.

There is a popping sound as his shoulders dislocate. We have twisted the victim’s arms behind his back, interlocking his elbows, he is kept that way to prevent his escape. My father says with no emotion, "That’ll hold him. Now he will be nice and still. Your confined victim will be joining us for dinner, where he will be served properly." Yeah, I think, he will be served on our plates.

In preparation for the death of our guest we have a big kettle of boiling water ready to scald and cleanse the body before we slice into his flesh. We are killing him with his clothes on, and he so filthy that his body covering sticks to his skin, almost as though it is a part of his flesh. Next to the boiling kettle is a table prepared to separate his body into edible portions. The setting is evocative of the stereo-typical cannibal movies with Bob Hope in the kettle. Believe me, this is not that glamorous.

My father is much stronger than I am, so he will kill this victim of our carnivorous appetite. I stand to the side and watch as my father puts his muddy boot on this fellow's head and grinds his heel into the victim's throat. The soon to be dead dinner guest for our table gurgles out one last screech of terror. I almost want to caution the victim not to lose your head, but my father disapproves of tormenting our guest, who is now our victim.

My father then grabs our dinner guest by the feet. With his boot still on the fellow's neck he stands straight up, in what looks like an elaborate wrestling move. Since my father is quite a bit taller than the victim, as he stands up there is a great deal of force applied to the young fellow's neck. Soon you see the victim's eyes start to bulge, as his neck gets a bit longer. Then with a sickeningly sweet crunching sound the vertebrae in the victim's neck break away from the surrounding tendons. Then my father shows his strength. With a final forceful pull there is a great popping sound the victim's head pulls right off of his body.

"Dad, ya want me to put him in the water?", I asked eagerly.

"No, let him bleed out first, it won’t take long. That way the water stays a little cleaner." replied my father.

So we stood there for about fifteen minutes watching his body go through its death throws. If we had not secured his arms then he might be running around like a chicken with his head cut off, and we don’t want to bruise the meat. I kick his head over and notice that his mouth is still working silently as if he is trying to talk, and his eyes are rolling back into his head.

That does not bother me, but I still pick up his head and throw it over into the hog pen. That sow will eat anything. She will also get his guts and feet.

Finally we hold his body over the kettle and dip him into the scalding water while holding him by the ankles, much the same way as Achilles' mother. But this brew will have not protective affect. We hold him under the water till his filthy attire starts to loosen up.

Then we pull his body out of the kettle and place him on the table. We then start to peel off his cocering, to expose the pale white flesh beneath. As we get all of that off we pull out all of the little hairs on his body. It is a shame to say that even though he impregnated several chicks, he has no penis to speak of. You can barely see it at all. That my friend is a serious case of shrinkage.

After we have him completely bald, we gut open his belly and pull out his putrid guts. As I said, those go to the pigs, along with his feet. This butcher session has gone fairly quick, he will be ready to roast before dinner.

We have an exra large roaster pan that is just the right size for his body. It will fit into the custom built wood fired stove that we have to cook him with. I know that with a few spices and some taters and onions from the garden, he will be a fine guest indeed, a great tasting meal that he helped us serve, just by being here!




© 2008 Jonathan Bryant Dean



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It's gotta be chicken, a dirty old rooster! Boiling his dirty body, could in fact be loosening feathers to be plucked. Again, the imagery is superb.

Posted 9 Years Ago


In this chapter it is clear it's a rooster and the fetus are eggs. My I suggest as I did before about recipies, in this for a city girl like me. I may have picked up on it had you made mention of maybe scrambled fetus, poached ect. I take nothing from your talent you are an ecellent writer. I just come from a different world then you and I need a little more to understand the farm life. I know you don't know me and I'm nobody and you can careless about my opinion. But you have a talent for story telling and my suggestions are only so you can capture a wider range of an audience, someone who doesn't know your life style. In this chapter, after you explained you were talking about animals, I got it. I'm only suggesting that you tweak your chapters a little so at the end the realiztion comes to us dumb city folks who buy eggs from carton and pre-package meat. I don't take criticism well but I'm trying to learn. My goal is to one day be a great writer, in my quest if I see a way to help a fellow writer I will so take my review with as token of my respect. I hope that it will help you become a better writter.

Posted 9 Years Ago


hm..... this is kinda way out with the aggressions of the day. isn't it?
I'd be interested to know if those people are overweighted? who eat
so much meat?

"I want to know a butcher paints,

A baker rhymes for his pursuit,

Candlestick-maker much acquaints

His soul with song, or, haply mute,

Blows out his brains upon the flute!"


Shop (1876) st. 21
Robert Browning 181289
English poet; husband of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Posted 9 Years Ago


I must say, when this is finished in entirety it will be amazing.

Posted 9 Years Ago


this is really good a little gory for me, yet i realised it was about something entirely different with the clever wording.
Excellant
Keep writing. Dawn

Posted 9 Years Ago


while i do not condone cannibalization in westernized societies i must admit that this piece of work is fine indeed and very well thought out. Kudoz on your writing

Posted 9 Years Ago


*shiver* Had I not picked up on the clues of the "guest" being an animal, I would have been REALLY freaked. This was really good, although there were a few sentences that needed commas to help them flow a little better. Enjoyed it!

Posted 9 Years Ago



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Added on February 6, 2008


Author

Jonathan Bryant Dean
Jonathan Bryant Dean

Middletown, OH



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Jonboy may make you mad, but at least he has made you think. "If you get mad, that means that you have an opinion, if you have an opinion, at least you have some conscious thought."--JonBoy There on.. more..

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