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It Tastes Like Pig

It Tastes Like Pig

India Reed • August 31, 2016 • Creative Writing • 



Alone, abandoned, alienated. Life has little to offer me. My family is gone. They left me, they don’t understand me. The God that people claim lives in the sky has turned away from me. These desires that I hold will no longer be caged. They are taking me. Slowly. I will become one with the grotesque and bloody yearnings of my blackened heart.

Baby Piglets!

It Tastes Like Pig

The pungent smell of decomposing bodies woke me with delight. A tingling feeling encompassed my body at the enticing scent. I pulled the covers off, allowing the morning light to hit my face. I walked out of my room and looked at the big, blue barrel that stared at me. I opened the lid allowing the scent of acid eating away at the flesh to bring back the memory about the events of a few nights before.  It had been a few months since I last satisfied my need for love. Now all that was left of my past lover was the pungent smell and the food in the fridge. Tonight I thought to myself. A smile spread across my lips as I thought of the new lover that I would bring home. I grabbed a soda from the fridge and fantasized about the man that I would pick up tonight. Would his skin be light or dark? What color eyes would he have? Would I be able to have him before or after he goes to sleep? I sat there feeling my body tighten as I imagined everything that I could do to him and how he tasted.

The rest of the day went on without fault. My neighbor, god bless her soul, was kind enough to invite me to her house for a sandwich and some drinks. She was not a very tall woman and was a little more on the round side of the scale. Her skin was a dark brown and liked to wear her hair in a ponytail.

“So how is work at the chocolate factory going, Jeffrey?” she asked, setting the food on the table. She gave me a small smile as she sat down across from me.

“Fine. Nothing too exciting though.” I smiled at her. She was one of the few people who was nice to me, although she didn’t know about my personal life she was still one of the few people that I didn’t mind being around.

“Why did you move into an apartment area filled with a bunch of black people? Especially when it isn’t very nice?”

I knew that I would be asked this question sooner or later. In Milwaukee it is abnormal to see a white man choosing to live with those of color.

“It is close to my work. I also don’t need that much space.”

She nodded, understanding.

It Tastes Like Pig

It Tastes Like Pig

I left soon after that and walked back to my apartment. I tried to watch TV but I couldn’t stay still. The quiet atmosphere made my heart burn. A deep fear of loneliness shook me. I need someone! I must have someone! The hunger that filled my heart and the pleasure that my body yearned for was too much to bare. I took a large chunk of meat from the fridge, unable to resist that taste of my last love. I cooked it to rare and devoured it, failing to savor the juicy meat that still seeped out blood when I bit into it. I felt pleasure tingle throughout my body. The urge to go to the bar and grab another lover was almost intolerable. My eyes popped open and I knew what I needed to do.

As soon as the moon was high I got dressed and went to the bar. This bar was not any normal bar. It was backdoored and often unlabeled, but we went here because we knew we were excepted. In other words it was a gay bar. I walked over there from my apartment, covering myself with a nice coat. I could hear the laughter and music as I neared the building. A man held the door open for me as I walked in.

“Nice to see you again, Jeffrey,” the man greeted. I nodded and offered a small smile. The blinding lights, blaring laughter, and booming music hit my ears. My eyes searched for a target. Someone who could satisfy me. After looking around, I finally saw him. He was tall, black, and had some muscle on him. His jawline was quite nice and his smile made me drool. I walked over, weaving around dancing bodies, to get next to him. As I sat down I got a closer look and realized who he was. Anthony Hughs. A thirty-one-year-old black man who was deaf. We had known each other for a while and got along fairly well. I asked the bartender for a beer. Anthony and I talked for a while, using a piece of paper to communicate. The longer we conversed the more the hunger grew. The need to be with him was too much and I found myself trying to get him to come over. After a little bit of persuading he finally agreed. We walked up the stairs of my apartment building and I opened the door for him. I showed him to the couch and asked him if he wanted a drink. He smiled and nodded. I felt my heart skip a beat at the sight of his pearly white teeth. He liked being around me…he liked me! Maybe he wouldn’t leave me like everyone else. I can finally be happy with someone! Opening the cupboard, I dropped a sleeping pill into his drink. I watched it dissolve and smirked. Soon he will be mine. All mine. I turned on the television and waited for him to finish his drink. Every few minutes I would look back at him to see if he had downed the glass. My hands grew sweaty in anticipation as I waited for him to drink it. Finally, he raised the glass to his lips. My heart rate picked up as he took in a large gulp. He began to cough. I smiled and watched as he fell against the couch, now unconscious. I went to my closet and grabbed the solution that I had made to turn my victims into sex zombies. I was done with being alone. I was sick and tired of people leaving me. This way I wouldn’t have to kill anyone. I could just have them stay with me and pleasure me until we died. I cracked open his skull and poured the solution into his brain and waited. One hour. Two. But he didn’t wake up. I checked his pulse to see that he was dead. No! My love! I wanted to keep him forever, but alas, it wouldn’t be. Anger consumed me as I grabbed a saw and cut his head off. Blood spurted out, drenching my couch in dark red. I cut his main arteries allowing blood to pour out. Quickly, I pulled him into the bathtub and watched as it was filled with the thick viscous remains of my love. I dismembered his body, making sure to cover myself in his sweet crimson liquid. A smirk bestowed my face as I lowered myself into my lovers stew. At this point I became one with Anthony.

It Tastes Like Pig

It Tastes Like Pig

Upon calming down, I placed his body parts in the fridge and his heart on the stove in a pan. I added a bit of olive oil, a few sliced of garlic, a dash of rosemary, and a pinch of oregano.  I let it cook while taking one the smell of his delightful flesh. While I waited I cleaned out his skull. The bone was soft and smooth to the touch. I was in awe by the pure shade of white that were his cheek bones. The way that the lighting captured the curves of his skull was beautiful. Placing it carefully on a stand, taking pictures of it, and marveling at the beauty of my work. The hole that I made clear as day made it even more miraculous. When the heart was finished, I slowly ate it as I stared at the skull. My eyes closed with pure satisfaction. The zingy iron taste of blood swirled around.  I remembered his heart beat and how he breathed as I swallowed the delicious flesh piece by piece. The image of his blood pouring out of him filled my mind. My body was finally at peace. I wasn’t alone anymore. He was with me and would always so.

I quickly cleaned everything up and grabbed his torso, which I left intact. I put it in the bed, grabbed the skull, and turned the light off. I gently kissed its jaw, teeth, and the hole that I had made. The bone was still a little warm, which only added to my pleasure as I kissed it. The blood on my lips left the mark of my love for him. I smiled as set him on the shelf and curled up in bed. Running my hands up and down his torso, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep, smelling Anthony and his everlasting presence.



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