The plan for a late breakfast/early lunch was sashimi. But not just any sashimi, we were going to eat at the fish market by the harbour. It wouldn’t have been any fresher if I had killed it myself. More than enough fish for 3, noodles, fish soup and beer, all for about $10. I could get used to this.
During our meal the topic of law and order came up which led into violence, murder, humanity, and eventually cannibalism.
We wondered aloud: if you were forced to, who would be the ideal person to eat? A perfect specimen, I reasoned, would need some muscle that was well marbled; perhaps a labourer that was sedentary when he got home. Because of this, I thought that a guy in his mid 30s who lived in his parents’ basement and was addicted to videogames was the perfect candidate for human consumption. Not only would he have enough muscle for a nice meaty taste, but his mother would cook for him and help him put on a little extra weight for the necessary marbling. On top of that, nobody would miss a guy like that; so onto the spit he goes.
Space appreciated the details that I had offered. Clearly this cannibalism thing could not be taken lightly. While he agreed with my method, he thought that it was a bit too calculated and lacked creativity.
Slowly and calmly he offered three words: “Honey glazed children.” Genius.
Iris looked at is like we were crazy; she was right.
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| Space: Eater of honey glazed children |
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