Not A Monster

They call me a monster. I’m not. I’ve had the craving all my life. I was born before my time. Screaming, I was a tiny ugly thing precious only to my Mum and Papa. I couldn’t keep up with the other boys. Powerful, golden calves flexing the children ran on the playground and I wanted to taste that strength. I’m not ashamed of myself or my appetite. My mouth watered on the playground.

As I grew older my appetite grew. I gouged myself on trollops. Nightclubs and alleyways were my hunting grounds. But I could never pull the trigger on these greasy creatures. Glacial and remote, Hitchcock Blondes were on the tip of my tongue. I began to visit high end shopping centers and art galleys. I met my girl. Or at least I thought I had in a car park. When I held her close, I savored her beauty. She hurt me bad. She fought me. I don’t like to think of it.

But then I did think of it. I made plans inside of plans. For years I waited and plotted. Then just like that Marlena came by for dinner. We would take turns cooking for one another. She would make her nan’s wallenbergen. I would tantalize her with rabbit in mustard sauce and coq au vin. We would eat and laugh and watch the Great British Baking Show. Marlena so funny, so thoughtful we had been friends since grad school. Marlena so sweet, so succulent when she turned her back to me to make dinner I knew the time was right.

My Marlena I could taste her honesty and openness. She had a good heart. Our meal was ecstasy. Have you ever had a moment that met no exceeded your dreams? I never wanted to kill honestly. I’m not ashamed and I’ve never had been. I don’t regret anything. Well except now after the reporters and the police and the mental institutions I have my freedom. I miss my friend..People say I’m a monster but I’m not. I’m a just gourmet.

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