I'm a bit worried that since posting my murderous poem about Algernon Sadie, I have started a trend. Glancing at MSN news this morning, the first thing that greeted my eye was an item about how the first Mr Gay UK, a chef, butchered his lover then carved off a steak, seasoned it and prepared it for cooking. The second item was about a loony Texan who killed and ate his wife. Maybe those old cannibals didn't call white missionaries Long Pig for nothing...
Which reminds me of the time, years ago, when I shared a flat with a friend and her thieving Siamese cat called Roxy. One day, Roxy came bounding up the wooden steps of the first floor maisonette and proudly deposited a pork chop at my feet, all seasoned with pepper and herbs and ready to be cooked for someone's supper. Imagine what they must have gone through. 'Where's my dinner? It was there a minute ago, I know it was. Am I going mad?' But now I'm thinking, was it a pork chop, or... ?
Hello Again!
4 months ago
3 comments:
LOL, I'm sure it WAS a pork chop. That's the trouble with writers - far too much imagination.;-)
Tiggsey once brought home a chicken breast. Some one must have left it to defrost for their dinner and, well, I imagined the same scenario as you did but without the cannibalism element. My fevered imagination took me along a different path... 'What if someone's poisoned it and he's eaten some?'
D'you know, that would never have crossed my mind. But just say the wife had wanted to poison her husband and the cat stole the chop, so the moment passed and they lived happily ever after instead? I feel a short story coming on!
Glad to be of assistance. LOL!
Post a Comment