Posts Tagged ‘cannibalism’

Jesse by Seancarroll on DeviantArt.com

Bubba checked the smoker. Perfect coals.

“I’ll get the rump roast,” said Jesse. In the truck bed, three gagged Boy Scouts struggled against their bindings. The two skinny ones froze. The fat one inched away. Jesse grabbed his ankles. He flopped like a trout as Jesse dragged him to the bloody stump.

Jesse raised his axe. A ripping sound. Brown soaked through the boy’s shorts. “Damn.” Jesse lowered his axe. “Rump roast’s done spoiled!”

The boy looked up, hopeful.

“How ‘bout ribs?” Bubba hollered.

The boy’s muffled scream silenced with a CHOP! and that meat just fell off the bone.

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Life On The Murder Scene by Floorsucker on DeviantArt.com

The sirloin was dry. Mr. Cechmanek wanted to enjoy his lunch at Cadabbara’s, but he couldn’t get past the disappointing brawn.

“How is it, sir?” asked the tall brunette attending to Mr. Cechmanek.

“I like my bodies similar to a sirloin – warm, bloody,” Mr. Cechmanek replied.

He paid his tab and snagged a Cadabbara’s business card upon exit. Through the terror of modern technology, Mr. Cechmanek found the chef’s address. Later, Mr. Cechmanek’s Wagoneer pulled up to a house adjacent to the unfortunate chef’s residence. Scimitar in hand, Mr. Cechmanek got the piece of meat he sought out – warm, bloody.

Amplexus Pirate by ShawnCoss on DeviantArt.com

Tarl Graytooth shifted uncomfortably as a splinter from the damaged deck stabbed his back.  That was the least of his worries as his left arm dangled loosely, gobbets of blood slowly drying into red balloons that hung from his stained shirt.  Alas, the battle was worth it; there was food aboard again!  The bloody chunk of meat left a trail of juice in his beard.  Fine cuts of meat could be gained from the chest and shoulders.  Better still the fatty thighs.  But the best, ah, the dessert of meats, was the dead pirate’s calves, which tasted just like veal.

Message in a Bottle by paulchensmom on DeviantArt.com

“Cheats!” Cap’n bellowed, throwing our dice overboard. “I’ll give ye a game o’ chance!”

Bad loser. That scurvy scoundrel marooned us four atop this coral atoll. The gallows woulda been mercy. Nary a shipbiscuit to share between us.

We ate up the crabs n snails n Slushy’s pet monkey.

Ate Slushy next. Poxy bastard lasted two days. Spoiled in the hot sun.

Us last three played rock, scissors, paper—winner take all. No gambling this time. My rock found Mick’s head. My scissors, Gummo’s throat.

My paper, I wrote my last story on it, n stuck it in this bottle.