Meal

Here’s something I whipped out today, something that’s really short but also has a really interesting twist at the end. Of course, I tried to put in as much clues as I can, some really subtle clues but clues nonetheless. Maybe you didn’t reach the same conclusion at the end, but hopefully you got a feeling of disturbance, that something isn’t quite what it seems. And that’s what I want you to feel going into this short story, a feeling of distrust and a feeling of uncertainty, is this character really who you think he is? Either way, here we go, “Meal”

I pulled out the chair and aligned myself with the silverware in front of me. The rather large table I was sitting with was rather quite empty. In fact, it was too large for a singular diner as myself. But nevertheless, I didn’t disgust. I need to take whatever I can with as much solemn and with as much respect as I can. After all, not everyone in this world is able to even have a morsel of food to eat. This is all but a blessing to be had, and a blessing that I will not tarnish. It is the gift of food.

I waited for my meal to be cooked, I had placed it in the oven quite a while ago. The scents were looming over the room and traveled across the abode I found myself in. I was alone, thankfully, so there was no joy to be shared, but I decided to take in all of the scents and to express myself as much as I can in thanks to the food I have been provided with. It was a tiring day of work after all and what comes after a good day of work is a good meal.

The only misfortune I could ever think of that could possibly spoil my meal is the inevitable suspicion that will come after I finish my meal. You see, my peers view me as a sort of gourmet, but the real problem is that they see me as a strange gourmet. I’m out casted as a peculiar and odd being. And I’m aware of my jarring personality and the jarring speculations surrounding me. But I can’t do anything to quell them, because I can only be the person that I am. I have no way to drown the rumors surrounding me, but in one sense, those rumors help me. They bring about a special spice in my meals that I’ve never tasted before. You see, I am indeed a gourmet, but I’m not that picky. I like my food prepared well and with exquisite details. It’s no lie that I like having adventure in my meals, and that can only be accomplished by the rumors.

I sighed and went to the oven. It looks like my meal is finally cooked. I found the mitts and proceeded to take out the dish that I have hand prepared. I’m a sort of do-all-end-all type of person. If it’s not something that I can make, or if it’s not something that I have instructed to make, I will not eat it. That’s my rule. But I do have a smaller condition, in that I will only eat with ingredients that I have prepared. You see, simply buying ingredients is boring. It doesn’t make eating interesting. I like to cut my own meats and arrange them in the best possibly way with my own hands. Some may argue, but it is my joy. Some may not realize it, but there definitely is a satisfying feeling when your cleaver severs muscles and joints and bones and it’s just riveting.

I placed the tray on the table and proceeded to open up the meat that I have cooked. The aroma inside exploded into the room around me, and it gave me a sort of high that I can never get elsewhere. No butcher shop, no fast food isle, no supermarket can ever give me this high. No other organism, no other drop of blood can ever amount to the kind that I have prepared. No, this is a specialty item. An item that everyone needs try once in their life. I’ve been practicing my technique for a while now; trying to get my perfect recette. And I think I’ve finally achieved it. It’s the perfect blend of herbs, spices, texture, and it envelopes the core human aspect that is inside each and every one of us.

I placed my meat dish on my plate and with knife in hand I cut out a small piece of it. I then proceeded to place the delicately sliced morsel into my mouth and wait as the flavor exploded in my mouth. I savored it for a few more seconds before proceeding to take another bite, and another and another before my plate was finished. It was more than satisfying, it was utter perfection, something that no one else can reproduce, something that only I can make. I got up and went for seconds, but something stopped me. There was knocking on the door. I cursed.

I left my silverware on the table and proceeded to get my jacket. I opened up a window and looked down. The fall won’t kill me. I then lowered myself to the ground and upon impact, made sure that no one else noticed. I took out my phone and checked the time, somewhere past midnight. I guess they had arrangements, this kind of stuff usually happens. Get a nice home, find a nice place to rest, to really think about things to come, prepare myself a nice meal, and then interrupted by the clutches of societal orchestration. But no matter, I’ll be on my way, and they’ll be on their way as well. Perchance we’ll meet again, but definitely not in this setting. I walked away from the abode I found myself in, despaired at the meal I had left, but satisfied by the times to come.  Human flesh has never tasted better.

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