Thursday, September 2, 2010

Close Encounter

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get over their eyes.  Their hairless, fetal pink skin wasn’t much better, but the eyes were the worst.

At least two dozen of the things lay there, all with perfectly identical pairs of empty black eyes that gleamed like marbles.  They were like those dome covered security cameras they have at the bank; you can’t see it, but you know it’s watching your every move.

“They’re not of this world,” I muttered to Amy.

“Definitely alien,” she agreed.

Neither of us dared to look away from them, certain they would spring to life and jump us if we did.

“Okay class,” Chef Michael strode in.  “I’m glad to see that everyone survived our first week of Advanced Butchering, so we’ll begin this week with a new beast: suckling pig.  If one person from each bench will come up and pick a pig, we’ll get started.”

Amy and I looked at one another.  I threw paper.  She threw scissors.

Cursing my bad luck, I grabbed a hotel pan while Amy lay out our carving knives.

Approaching the pig pile, their unearthly plastic, alien quality became even more apparent.  They stared up at me.  I gulped.

Look at it this way, I told myself.  At least you won’t be facing it unarmed.

With that final thought in mind, I grabbed the nearest pig by its front hooves and pulled.