by Gurgurant (1993)
I have always been a curious person, perhaps by both meanings by which that phrase can be taken. Like the old saw 'curiosity killed the cat,' my curiosity has more than once gotten me into all different kinds of trouble. The most extreme case of that is one that I 'got away with', as it were, and is the subject of the tale I am about to relate here.
Because of my curious nature I have always been something of a bookworm. I was also always a pretty good student, and spent a great deal of my youth reading and studying. Even when I went to college I was always taking extra classes just for the sheer interest of the subject, regardless of the fact that some of them would never count towards my degree program. Being a medical student, with all of its demands, that usually meant that most of my day (and well into the night) was spent in the library or in the classroom.
The other thing about college is money. When you are a student at a prestigious school you need lots of it. Scholarships are never quite enough, although they pay for most of the basic scholastic fees. They usually have a limit anyway. Grants and loans are another way to get money, but they have their limits, too. No, sooner or later almost every student has to find a part time job to get him through, and this was true of me, too.
Of course, when it became clear to me that I had to find work to supplement my income, I went to the student co-op office and started taking down listings. To make a long story short, my medical and pathology background got me a part-time job in a mortuary not far from campus. I had seen lots of cadavers, and so the sight of dead bodies didn't freak me out too much. I learned about embalming, working out rigor mortis, preparing bodies for the crematorium, etcetera. All in all, I used the opportunities where I could study anatomy and the pathology of death. It wasn't the most thrilling job, but it kept my fees and my rent paid, so it was OK with me.
It was at about this time that I had begun to also develop an interest in Anthropology, and figuring I could use it as a breadth elective I enrolled in a basic course in Anthro. Most of the first half of the class was very Darwinian stuff, all about Australopithecus and Homo Erectus and the evolutionary development of the human species. I never found Evolution all that convincing a theory of the origin of the human race, but with divine creation being the only real other alternative I sort of tentatively accepted the idea. The second part of the class was much more interesting, discussing the behavior and socialization of primitive man and this is where my professor took a tangent which I found fascinating.
He began a discussion on the practice of cannibalism among primitive humans, and traced it into the modern age. The subject had its gruesome aspects, but many fascinating overtones, such as the thesis written by one expert which claimed that the human race had developed higher inteligence by the eating of the brains of other humans!
This was a very fascinating idea and fully intrigued me. Once the cannibalism tangent had concluded in my class, I went straight on to the library and began reading everything I could find on the subject of cannibalism.
There were all sorts of tales to be found, some plausible, others somewhat less so. There were accounts by archaeologists of finding human bones at primitive cave dwellings which had apparently been cooked and stripped of their meat, or skulls which had been cracked open apparently to scoop out the brains. There were accounts of ritualistic cannibalism practiced by various advanced tribal societies such as the Northern European Celts and the Indians of both North and South America. There were tales of survival cannibalism, such as those of the Donner Party of frontier California and the shipwreck of the Mignonette. And, there were the many stories of travelers and explorers in Africa and the South Pacific, which told tales of savage tribes who trafficked in human flesh as if were any other sort of meat, and in many cases a particularly prized one.
It was these last tales which really began to raise my interest. It was hard to imagine that an idea such as cannibalism, so taboo in western culture, could be practiced and enjoyed by other cultures, who in many other ways were not that far removed from ourselves, was extremely interesting to me. Moreover, I began to read of accounts where cannibalism was practiced as a funeral rite for the dead. Given my current state of employment, this really came as a shock to me.
I thought of all of those bodies back at the mortuary. Stiff, blue, lifeless. Not exactly appetising. Of course, I had always been looking at these bodies clinically. All of the meat I ever buy at the supermarket started as the carcass of an animal on a table at a butcher shop. I process my dead meat in a different way than the butcher does, but after all it's really all just meat isn't it?
Pondering this idea, I chanced to look up, and I noticed a girl who lived in my building, and whom I'd had one or two classes with. I had always been attracted to her, and we'd even met for study groups before. I'd never actually gone out with her, except for coffee after study and then always with a group. She was a well built, fleshy girl; I guess voluptuous would be the correct term. Not fat, mind you, but not as thin as was currently in vogue. I found her to be quite sexy, and looking at her, cannibalism didn't seem to be such a strange idea anymore. I had no doubt she'd be incredibly delicious and the prize of any cannibal!
I went back to my reading, and I came across another shipwreck account. Shipwrecks did happen infrequently in the South Pacific. It would happen once in a while when ships were travelling between Europe and the Americas and Australia. Many of the islands in the South Pacific near Australia were inhabited by cannibals, and some of the shipwrecks of the early nineteenth century would strand survivors on some of these islands. Often, the survivors of these wrecks would turn to cannibalism themselves for survival. In one such case there is an account of the survivors of one of these shipwrecks who ate the body of a young woman who died of exposure in the long boat. As my mind visualised this scene, I saw that lovely young classmate of mine as that woman. I would superimpose her into other visualizations of what I was reading as well. I would see her as the captive of Fijian natives, tied to a stake and stripped naked by the leering savages, and then being suspended over the hot roasting coals! I suddenly realized that my reading was starting to turn into erotic fantasies! This was a very strange subject to be having erotic fantasies about, I thought. Of course, it was more the girl than the subject, but still, was this any way for a future doctor to be thinking?
I decided that I had done enough research on this subject for a while, and packed up the books. As I got up to leave, the girl (God, I couldn't even remember her name) noticed me and smiled and waved. I waved back, but somehow after the thoughts I had just been having about her I didn't feel that I wanted to engage her in conversation just then. So, I just waved back and left the library.
A couple of weeks went by and I had moved off of the subject of cannibalism and onto other things. That girl I had seen only on a couple of other occasions, and only from afar across the campus. I still felt a little embarrassed about those fantasies I'd had about her, and didn't go out of my way to meet her and engage her in conversation. On the other hand, they did prove that I was certainly attracted to her, and it seemed to me that I really should try to get over it and maybe even ask her out. I didn't date much. I was always too busy, but in her case maybe I really should try to make the time.
Then came that one night when I was working late at the morgue. I had just been through term finals, and between those and my work at the morgue I had not seen much of the light of day, let alone girls to ask out on a date. There were the usual tasks: old people to be embalmed or cremated, accident victims, etcetera. On this night there had apparently been a car wreck in which some people had been killed, and it was my job to prepare a couple of them for cremation. It was late and I was working mostly alone. The bodies had been wheeled in on gurneys by one of the other workers, who then took off for the night and left me to my gruesome task.
When I pulled back the sheet to work on one of the bodies, I felt my heart stop, and I found myself gasping for breath. As I looked at the cadaver, I could scarcely believe my eyes. It was the girl from the library! She had been in that car wreck and had been killed. There was not a great deal of damage to the body, but as I examined her I could tell that her neck had been snapped. Had she lived, she would have been quadriplegic. What a horrible fate for a beautiful young girl! And what an incredible tragedy!
I found it very difficult for me to continue with my work now. I had not known this girl well, but I had known her. And not only that, I had been attracted to her and had even considered asking her out. I would never be able to do that now. How could I work on her? How could I put her into the crematorium? Suddenly I remembered the fantasies I had concerning her that day in the library. How ironic, I thought, that I should have to put her into the crematorium which suddenly seemed to me to resemble a giant witches oven. I had to stop and go sit down. I needed to catch my breath and decide what to do next.
There was no one here. I could simply refuse to work on her, and leave the task to someone else to do tomorrow. If I explained that I knew her I'm sure my management here would understand. Would they consider me unprofessional if I did that? Probably not. They were human after all, and not the ghouls which sometimes morticians are painted to be. Shit, how could I think of myself and my career at a time like this? This girl was a person. Someone I knew and cared for, even if only in a small way. Even lust is a form of caring in some way, isn't it? At least it said that I valued this individual on some level. Could I just coldly put her body into the fire and watch it burn away to ashes?
Ashes. I started thinking of cannibals again. Some cannibal tribes used to cremate their dead, and then put the ashes into a soup which was drunk by the relatives of the deceased. Other tribes simply thought that burning or burying a body was a waste of good flesh, and when a tribal member died the body was cooked and eaten and then the bones were preserved in some kind of totem or shrine. In our culture, the dead are buried, or burned and the ashes either scattered over someplace valued by the deceased, or simply kept on a mantle or bookshelf. It still seemed to me that such a fate was a tragic waste for such a lovely and sweet lady as this.
Despite myself, I found myself drawn back to the corpse. I pulled the sheet the rest of the way back. She was lying naked on the gurney. A week ago I would have given a weeks salary to have seen her naked, but somehow this way it just wasn't the same. Still I couldn't help looking. She was indeed a lovely creature. Full rounded thighs, a full and luscious bosom, and a smooth and creamy looking belly. A cannibals prize to be certain. What a shame I never did take the time to get to know her better, and to take her out on a date. Maybe she would have been with me that night, instead of in the car she was killed in. We never realize just how far reaching the results of our actions and inactions can be when we are in the moment of decision. Or indecision.
But now was another moment of decision. Did I continue with my work, or did I put the bodies away and leave. I wasn't sure that I could just load her into the oven and watch her burn. Maybe the cannibals had a better way of dealing with their dead.
It was then that the thought hit me. More then hit me. It was more like the thought grabbed me by the throat and started to choke me. It was that old demon curiosity again. I have to admit that when I was engaged in my cannibalism study that I did have a slight curiosity as to what human flesh would taste like. As a pathologist, even as a doctor, might not this knowledge have some use? She was dead. To assimilate part of her into me, wasn't that better than to simply burn her up and scatter her ashes at sea? Besides, since she was going to be cremated anyway, if I were to take just a small amount, how would it ever be noticed?
No! What a ridiculous idea. I couldn't actually be considering such a thing. Still, this taboo I was suddenly up against was only a taboo in my own culture. In many others, it was the accepted practice. If I ever did want to taste human flesh, I would never have a better opportunity, or a better subject. I couldn't imagine a more appetizing subject than this delectable young lady anyway.
I'm not sure I was any longer in control of my own actions. Suddenly it was as if I was having an out of body experience. I could see myself going to get a surgical scalpel. What cuts should I take? If I were somehow caught with the meat on me, it would have to be something that would not be immediately recognizable as human. Therefore, I couldn't take a breast. Not an arm or leg either. Both would be too easily recognizable as human. Maybe some boneless fillets? Maybe a rib or two?
That tummy looked so tender and delicious. I cut myself three steaks from her belly. One from right below the navel, and two from either side right below the rib cage, taking one rib with each. I also took a chunk of rump- that delightful part where the upper thigh meets the butt, and a strip from the inner thigh. Five separate cuts. There was paper around which was similar to butcher paper. I wrapped each piece of meat in the paper and carefully hid it away in my briefcase. I could slip out with it tonight and go straight home. No one would ever search my briefcase.
Now I had no choice. I had to cremate the body now. If I could do what I had just done, I could cremate the body. I opened the door to the crematorium and pushed the gurney up to it. I touched my hand to her cheek, and I could see my eyes clouding with tears. I told her I was sorry. Sorry that I had never told her that I liked her. Sorry that I had never really gotten to know her. Sorry that her life had ended so tragically. Sorry that I had never asked her out, and at least gave her the opportunity of turning me down, and sorry if my inaction had in some way contributed to the accident which had took her life. Sorry that I couldn't even remember her name. I told her that I would never forget her, and that I hoped that she understood that what I had just done was a tribute to her, and that she did not consider it a violation. I kissed her on the forehead, and pushed her into the crematorium. Then I closed the door and turned up the fire.
I needed a drink. My stress level was very high. I found myself pacing around the room as the crematorium did it's job. My mouth was dry and swallowing was difficult. Every little noise, whether real or imaginary, set me into a cold sweat and looking over my shoulder. All I wanted was to get done and get out of there. To get home and get the meat out of my briefcase. What story would I tell if I were caught? That it was meat I picked up at the butcher shop? Specimens? What would be more believable. It wasn't a crime to have meat in your possession. It didn't look like it was human, necessarily. It could be anything. I could claim it was pork. In a way it was pork. Long Pork.
Nervously, I finished up my work. I cremated the other body, and separated the ashes and put them into boxes, and marked each one. I hastily signed off on the necessary paperwork, closed up my briefcase and walked out.
There was no one to stop me on my way to the car. There was a guard. I could have probably gotten a whole body past this guy, so no problem there. I just said good-night and walked out to my car. I threw the briefcase into the trunk. If for some reason I did get pulled over it would be better there. I started the car and headed for home.
I was probably on the verge of paranoid schizophrenia. I hoped that I wasn't acting and driving strangely enough to attract suspicion. God, what I would have given for a drink! Just to calm me down and wet my throat. The drive home seemed to take forever, but finally I arrived. I parked the car, got the briefcase out of the trunk and went into my apartment.
Fortunately, my roommate was gone. He and his girlfriend had taken off for a long weekend to unwind after finals. I wished I'd done the same. Obviously, I would have to use the meat before he got back. I had not eaten at all that day, so I guessed I should probably start right away. How long would human flesh keep anyway? I suppose I should probably freeze what I didn't use tonight.
I had to get a drink first. I couldn't do anything right away, I had to let off some steam first. I had some scotch here somewhere. Yes, that's what I needed. I poured myself a large glass of scotch, with a glass of water as a chaser, and sat down. I drank the whole glass before I did anything else.
The scotch helped. I calmed down and started thinking about what to do next. I had to go through with it. I couldn't just throw the meat away. Besides, that would be an insult to her. No, I had to do it, I'd gone this far. A little more than a year ago I had taken an interest in cooking, and had taken a couple of classes. I felt that I would be equipped to do justice to the meat and cook it myself.
Tonight, I wanted something simple. Not only because it was late, but because I wanted to get a good idea of what the meat tasted like in pure form. I figured I would start with one of the tummy steaks. Pan fried with maybe just a little pepper would probably work well. I got out a skillet, a little salt and pepper. I would have to grind fresh pepper for this. Probably coarsely ground would work best. And maybe just a little thyme and coriander. Not too much. I would want to cook it fairly well. This was human meat after all. A little bit of wine, too. I think I've got a sauterne around here that I use for cooking. Vegetables, too. Maybe a little asparagus. Sautéed.
So, I cooked my first human steak. The smell was wonderful. So sweet, and so rich. It smelled as good as any fine cut of pork or veal cooking in a restaurant. I was a pretty decent cook after all. I wondered if it would taste half as good as it smelled. When it was done, I served it on a plate and sat down.
Taking the first bite was difficult. I was again as nervous as I was at the mortuary, and during the drive home. My mouth was dry, and my heart was beating hard and fast. I'd have to calm down again or I wouldn't be able to swallow. I poured myself a glass of wine. This would require red wine. I had a bit of that, too. I opened a fresh bottle of merlot, poured myself a glass and look a big, long drink.
After screwing up my courage (and drinking two glasses of wine) I took my first bite. I hardly even tasted it. It took all of my energy and will power just to get it down. I cut a piece, put it in my mouth, chewed and swallowed.
That was it. There was no going back now. From that moment on and for the rest of my life, I was a cannibal.
I had to pause and have another drink. The worst was over. The deed was done. Now there was nothing to do but experience the experience.
I took my next bite. This time I tuned into my senses, and allowed myself to taste it. It was good. Delicious, in fact. It was somewhat reminiscent of a fine pork tenderloin, but with a sweetness and richness almost reminiscent of veal. It was tender and delicate, more so than any other meat I had ever tasted. Would all such flesh taste like this, or was it just that I was right about this particular girl? She was delectable, even more so than I had imagined. I'm sure there would have been other, more enjoyable ways, to have enjoyed the taste of her. But now, with her dead and cremated, this was the only way.
I finished that first steak, savoring every bite. I admit that I enjoyed it much more than I ever thought I would. The fact that I was half drunk helped, at least in coping with the knowledge of exactly what it was that I was eating. What did this say about me? Was I a monster? After all, I had eaten human flesh, one of western societies greatest taboos. Moreover, I had done so in a situation, unlike that of the Donner Party or the South American Soccer team, where my survival was not at stake. More than that even, the meat that I had eaten was from a lovely and unfortunate young girl whom I had been physically attracted to when she was alive. On the other hand, I had not killed her, and I knew that I would never have even considered harming her had this terrible accident not happened. Perhaps that should be my next topic of independent study: Philosophy and Moralism.
This sort of stuff was too complicated for an intoxicated and guilt ridden brain to deal with. There was only one thing to do: get the rest of the way drunk and deal with the issue tomorrow.
The next day I still had a problem. And that problem was that I still had four cuts of human meat to dispose of. I still couldn't throw them away. The only way for me to dispose of them and leaving no evidence was to consume them. It would take me another four days to eat it all. I didn't want to make sandwiches out of her. That wouldn't do at all. Out of respect to her, she had to be prepared only in the best gourmet style I could come up with from my amateur repertoir.
There was a recipe that I particularly liked. I had seen it done with both lamb and with duck. I would try it with the bit of thigh I had taken. I was sure that the thigh would be very tender and savory, and that this recipe would bring out the flavor of the meat. I cut the thigh into small medallions, and marinated them in a semi-sweet port with tarragon and a little vinegar. I let the meat marinate all day while I was at work. When I got home I set about preparing dinner.
I took the meat out of the marinade and lightly broiled it. While the meat was broiling I heated up a skillet with a small amount of olive oil. After the meat had broiled enough, I transferred it to the pan to finish cooking. I cooked it only about a minute each side, and then removed the meat to a plate. I poured the marinade into the pan and added a few raspberries, a little honey and a small amount of cornstarch to thicken the sauce. Then I spooned the sauce out over the meat.
This time I selected a Beaujolais to accompany the meal. Some mixed vegetables, broccoli, carrots and asparagus completed the course. This time I was much less nervous, and took the time to recognize the young lady who had provided the feast. I toasted her with my first sip of wine, and then took a bite.
Fabulous! The thigh was deliciously tender. Sweet and rich as well. Again it was an unusual taste, not exactly like any meat I had ever tasted before, but at the same time similar to a combination of several other more familiar ones. I was sure that the cannibals of Africa and the South Pacific never ate like this! Maybe later I'd try something more like what they might eat.
The next day was a free one for me. No school or work, so I decided to speed up the process by having lunch, too. This should be more simple. I selected another tummy steak with rib, made up a good sweet and spicy barbecue sauce and made some barbecue. I served it with beans and cornbread, and had a beer instead of wine. This was great barbecue! No pork sparerib I had ever had before was this sweet and savory, although the taste was quite similar in many ways. It seemed to me that I would never again enjoy pork ribs in quite the same way.
It hit me then that this experience was to be one of a kind. I would always be reminded of this every time I did eat pork, but this was a meat that I would never eat again. I was both relieved and disappointed by that idea, and figured that it was all the more reason to enjoy it.
The rest of the day was spent in anticipation of that nights dinner. I would do something that was perhaps a bit more tropical in nature. How would Fijian cannibals cook such meat? Likely they would make a stew, or they would bake it in an earth oven with locally available fruits and vegetables. She was too good for a stew, I thought, and I didn't have an earth oven. I did have a regular gas oven, and tropical fruits and vegetables were easily available at the store.
I decided to cook the rump roast, and a roast it would be. I would do something kind of like a ham. I put the rump in a roasting pan and coated it with coconut oil and a little salt and pepper. I made a glaze out of tupelo honey, mangoes and cherries and baked the roast to perfection. I served it with some sliced bananas and a mango and banana chutneys as a condiment.
Again, the combinations worked well. The meat had never been cured, so it tasted more like a pork roast than a ham, but not exactly like either. In any case, it was tender, succulent and exotic. If only I could tell her just how wonderful she really was. I'm sure that it never occurred to her that she was this delicious.
As I thought about my last meal for the next night, I realized that my nervousness and fear were gone. I no longer half loathed what I was doing, but was actually enjoying it. I wasn't sure what to make of that. It was nice not to be so uptight and nervous about this irrevocable decision I had hastily made, but on the other hand it was somewhat disquieting to think that I had so readily accepted the fact that I was eating human flesh. Not only that, but that I was actually looking forward to the meals. I took comfort in the fact that tonight was the last night. I had only one more cut of meat to get rid of, and then it was over. Over forever. I found that thought to be simultaneously sad, and a great relief.
I had one tummy steak left. The other two had been excellent, but I had prepared them simply. I would go a little more exotic with this last one. I adapted a recipe for veal oscar for this last, boneless tummy filet. I broiled the fillet, and served it covered in béarnaise sauce and topped with crab and fresh rosemary. A cabernet sauvignon rounded it out.
The tummy cuts were the sweetest of the three portions I had taken. The thigh had been the richest and most tender, with the tummy a close second. The rump had been the firmest and juiciest. This last steak was from the abdomen right below the navel, and so had a little bit more fat that the cuts from the ribs. The combination of the béarnaise sauce and the crab made this a very rich and sweet taste experience. A fine way to finish off this admittedly perverse culinary adventure.
I savored every bite as I ate, until I was down to just one bite remaining. I stared at it. That was it, the last bite. After this she would be truly gone forever. More than that, it was the end of this entire experience. I had tasted human meat, and had become a cannibal. I had shared an intimate experience with this girl, in the only possible way that was left to me, and now it was over.
Over? Not quite. Just one last thing to do.
I ate the last piece. As I swallowed it, I said my last good-bye to her. I drank another toast to her as I chased it down with the last sip of wine.
It was over.