A hat with the bill rounded just so...
The hat was stained with grease where I took it off with my dirty hands to wipe my sweaty brow. Man it was hot that day, when my friend Nan died.
That very day my Dad had viciously killed Nan with a single hammer blow to her head. It was a violent death, as gore and brain matter landed with a visceral wetness on my face. It was my first time.
I remember helping my father remove her head. We split her from stem to stern with a strange detached, almost surgical demeanor. I was an assistant to a Doctor, but not in an air conditioned hospital. We were in Kentucky, on a remote hillside, in the heat of the summer sun.
I remember that initially I was sad, for we had just lost a dear friend. I could not blame my father though, for my mother was the one at fault. Mother had given Nan her last meal. As Nan was eating she started to gasp, her eyes bulged and she could not breathe. The Heimlich maneuver was not an option. My father knew what he must do, and that is when he grabbed the sledge hammer.
To lose Nan, was a crushing blow to my heart, as well as to her head. The least surgical maneuver was Nan's death. Then there was the removal of her vital organs. The smell of blood is not so bad, but the smell of the intestines, as they evacuate one last time, is as foul as the stench of any truck-stop bathroom.
The heart and lungs, the liver and kidneys, all still bright with wetness, still not quite dead in their appearance. It seems a shame as my father throws them to the dogs, since I am sure that someone could have gotten some good from those organs, but the dogs do have to eat as well. Though I guess it is cheaper than dog food.
There is no dignity in death, as even her head was offered over to the hogs in the pen. By this time we felt that we had dissected her body sufficiently. The rest of Nan's body, not recognizable as either human or animal, was divided into two categories: edible, and not edible.
Her feet for example, would be inedible, and at least very unappetizing. The meat of her butt however, would be very tender. For, you see, the dissection performed by my father had divided her lifeless form, with hair all in disarray, into a beautiful tray full of steaks and chops!
That summer day was hot, and the effort caused a sweat, that caused me to take off my hat, with the bill rounded just so, to wipe my sweaty forehead. Then I noted that there was evidence of our work, on the bill of my hat. A set of bloody fingerprints now added to the grease. A red badge that signified what we had just accomplished.
It was hot to the point of misery, but I remember thinking, 'we will have meat tonight', which was a rare treat in my childhood. I will never forget Nan, and I find that as I grow the memory of her taste has left me. That is sad, for I am sure she was delicious. I do remember that it took us three days to eat her.
I will never forget the sad look in her soft brown eyes, as she realized that we were going to kill her. But we held no malice, and it did make me sad, for a while. Thank you Nan.
I do not have that hat any more, with the rounded bill, just so, but I do have the memories of my friend Nan.
I'm hungry, now do you know any friends whom I can have for dinner?
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