We Had a Little Friend For Dinner

We Had a Little Friend For Dinner

A Chapter by Jonathan Bryant Dean

It was late in the fall, and the weather was growing colder. My father and I once again prepared to provide meat for the table. As the winter approached, so did the need to put aside a supply of food, so we would be secure when the snow trapped us in its cold embrace.

We stood over his body as he lay prostrate before us. Our breath providing an eerie fog. This victim was not that old, but his appearance belied a hard life. He had a small frail frame, not much meat on his bones, and his sparse white hair and scraggly whiskers made him a pathetic sight. His eyes were blue, and were once as pretty as an azure sky, but at that moment they are rimmed in red from his fearful, tearless crying. His teeth, sharp white daggers, that once were fierce, hidden behind trembling lips.

A knife would do the deed this time, but not the point or the edge. The blade was long, strong and mean, and my father called it ‘Long Tom’, and it lived up to its terrible name. Tom was strong enough to kill with just the weight of his hilt. A crushing blow to the base of his neck will be more merciful than dying slowly of a throat that has been slit.

As I held our victim, Long Tom was in my father’s hand, and he rose into the air, his dull rear edge swung swiftly down, crushing the base of the frail one’s skull. I felt the body go limp in my hands, as I assumed his soul had evacuated his body. Now the work began.

We tied the legs of the body to a tree branch as I cradled the head in my hands one last time. My father, with a quick upward thrust, plunged Long Tom into the pitiful hollow of the victim’s belly, and pulled out his entrails in three scooping handfuls. The steam from the viscera then mingled with that created from our exerted breathing.

We threw the entrails to the side like so much stinking waste. The heart, liver and kidneys, would be removed later. For now we were just cleaning the corpse at this point. Though I do like to eat the heart myself, it is a treat.

Our frail, white whiskered friend was rather hairy, so we decided to remove his skin as well. Long Tom was used to make surgical slits at the wrists to loosen the skin, then we cut the skin around the neck. My father grabbed the arms, I took the loose skin, and we pulled, dividing the skin from the fatty membrane that attached it to the muscle. It had a smooth feel, like removing a pair of wet jeans from his legs.

As I pulled upon the skin, I noticed that the muscles in the corpse seemed to twitch. It was unnerving to see, because this had never happened before. Then as I pulled harder, a piercing scream filled the air! It seems that Long Tom failed in his killing mission, and our poor tortured soul was merely knocked unconscious, which was not our intended result. Now here was a living gutted half skinned victim, screaming for mercy.

Long Tom had to finish his intended mission quickly to end the suffering of this body that we had reduced to a beastly image of its former self. It was a horror to look at, like a before and after cutaway picture from an anatomy textbook. And there were still the haunting sounds of his screams that could pierce a soul.
I grabbed the knife from my fathers hand, no longer giving it the respect of calling it by name. The shame of its failure must be ended swiftly, so I used it to slit the poor souls throat. We were wrong to avoid this in the beginning, and our mercy became torture. We did not mean to torture him, because it is never right to play with your food.

We had known him his entire life, but we never once called him by name. We knew the day would come, when his name would not matter, we would just call him to dinner one last time. It would be cruel to all involved to call him to his final meal using his name. It may be harsh, but it saves any unnecessary emotional attachment. Like my father says, "Boy, ya don’t name yer food!"
 




© 2008 Jonathan Bryant Dean



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hmm a goat maybe? lol. really enjoyed these chapters. Keep writing!

Posted 9 Years Ago


In this chapter with the blunder of the victim still being alive is disappointing, it had a Stephen King kinda theme. I still didn't reconize it as an animal from the read, only that you have told me it was about an animal. I pick up that his must be the goat because of the his sparse white hair and scraggly whiskers, but that could also discribe an old man who has out lived his usefullness. Again you are an excellent writer in you discriptions, just a city girl like me needs claification. Sorry if my spelling is off, I can't spell worth a----.

Posted 9 Years Ago


I do hope you do autopsies, your discriptions are so vivid and and reeks of reality. These chapters are gorey. I get that you are writing about dinner meals of canniablisim, may I suggest you add recipes to spice it ups sort of speak. The three chapters, well written and different are yet the same, I would find it more interesting if you would dindulge deeper into the farther and sons personality, give us some insight as to what has given them the palate for human flesh. In my opinion each chapter should allow us to learn more about the charaters, just telling how they dice and slice will get boring, no matter how talented of a writer you are. You have a unique and creative talent just give us more to make it a little easier to digest the butchering. Keep writing.

Posted 9 Years Ago


When do we get a story line? Don't get me wrong, each vignette was delightful in both content and tone. It's just that I don't see any progression. Is this book going to be just a series of murders? Hope not.

Posted 9 Years Ago


this is an incredible peice i like your precise description and your thoughts create a good story base. i am glad that you have made it this so far and hope that you continue on this peice.


FrOgBeAn

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Wow you are indeed an excellent writer! i hope you have more like this that i can read for you have a morbidly wonderful gift at this writing and i love it.

Posted 9 Years Ago


0 of 1 people found this review constructive.

That was good. Gruesome, however good. Probably not as good as Nan, but still good. However you got the ideas from this is what I would like to know. It was great. Please look at my stories. If you read them, start from the last story to the first, that is how they go. They build off the last story. Thanks.
My site is www.writerscafe.org/goodykos

Posted 9 Years Ago


0 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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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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