Copyright 1993 by Richard Dunstan
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 it's 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 lot's 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 primitve humans,
and traced it into the modern age. The subject had it's 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 trafficed 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 learing 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 quadraplegic. What
a horrible fate for a beautiful young girl! And what an incredible tradgedy!
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 thay 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 choak 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 scalple. 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 creamatorium 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 posession. 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 appartment.
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 equiped 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 coursely
ground would work best. And maybe just a little thyme and corriander. 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 asparagas. Sauteed.
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 screweing 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 tendeloin, 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 paricularly 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 transfered 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 beujolais to accompany the meal. Some mixed vegetables,
brocollii, 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 everytime 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 occured 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 bernaise 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 bernaise 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.