The Vegetarian and the Butcher Boy
I have ceased taking fauxtoes of all the dead mousies, shrews and birdies I come across because my cats have turned into mini slaughtering machines and practically every morning my hallways are strewn with their, mostly, scared to death mini beasties of the night. Anyway, I realised that I like dead things more when they are severely decomposed and I am not about to let the dead shrew and thrush I had today as my offerings, stay there in the hall until the flies come and take away the flesh and instrumental organs. I do still quite like some road kill but that is rather hard to find around these parts…
Yesterday morning though, my cats had not left any ritualistic offerings to the God of the Abattoir that they started worshiping upon their move to France. This was quite unusual since they tend to scatter more dead heads around the house when there are other people here and the Quietish American had arrived. I didn’t really think too much of it until just now when it occurred to me – they did not slaughter because they were in awe of their god. They did not slaughter because they were timid and afraid their measly offerings would enrage their god. They did not slaughter because they were waiting for Butcher Boy to stand up and show them how it is really done. They did not slaughter because they were in awe of a smelly, stinky chef who likes hacking dead animals to death…
The Goddess of Light and Love aka The Vegetarian aka me was shocked and appalled at the nasty Butcher Boy and his hacking to death of the lovely lambs that should be frolicking in her back garden. The Goddess of Light and Love aka The Vegetarian aka me sometimes was, honest to the god that makes the green things grow, so shocked that she sometimes couldn’t speak for the thought “why the bloody hell is he telling me this?” was blocking her larynx from releasing the words. The Goddess of Light and Love aka The Vegetarian aka me made him not talk about his bloody, murderous self and life and didn’t try to hack him to death for his sins so long as he cooked her a lovely vegetarian meal, which he did…
The Goddess of Light and Love aka The Vegetarian aka me is a forgiving goddess and so she allowed the wine and the beer, the wonderful lasagne (so zingy, so zesty, so incredibly light!), the bounty salad with magic dressing, the stuff and the cheese, the joint birthday cake which had gone dry around the edges because I had left it in the freezer too long and the more wine and beer to cloud her ears to his stories of proud bloodshed and ritualistic murders. The Goddess of Light and Love aka The Vegetarian aka me had a jolly good time and is glad, if only for 2 days and one night, the Quietish American aka Butcher Boy travelled all the way, which isn’t much of a way, from Spain to chill out in France.
Having only heard English accents since March, it was so comforting, in some ways, to hear an American voice. Something in me missed the way you all can’t speak right and bastardise a perfectly functional language. Something in me sighed and said “ahhh, this wanker can’t talk right, but I shall forgive him his sins because now I can say SCHITZEN SPRITZEN BLITZEN instead of sweating and that is a fine, no a grand trade-off.” I am going to go visit Butcher Boy in the beginning of July so as I can be fed again (!!!) and so as I can go be with the ocean that I have been pining for quite strongly of late. The Goddess of Light and Love aka The Vegetarian aka me is going to go visit the God of the Abattoir aka the Quietish American aka Butcher Boy because even though she thinks America sucks and is full of selfish bastards, some masochistic part of her misses it and so she is going to be around the closest thing she has to stanky, dirty South Street…
