Monday, October 6, 2014

Nightmare Fuel, Day the Sixth: Feeding Time

The views of characters in my stories may or may not reflect my own. I'm unpredictable that way.

The world slowly returned to focus. He found himself in a wheelchair, held in place with wide nylon arm and ankle-cuffs.

"Ow. What's happening? Where am I? Where's Sheila?"

"We'll make  everything clear to you in good time. Fear not, your date is and will remain unharmed. She ordered the smoked salmon appetizer. Farm-raised, it's true, but still not the worst sin. Now you, on the other hand..."

"Are you kidding? This is about my choice of fucking appetizer? Are you insane?"

"Please do relax, sir. Please understand that this is not personal. You ordered the foi gras, no?"

"So what if I did? It's a special occasion. Are you one of those PETA nuts? It tastes good. And geese gorge themselves in nature, don't they?"

His captor rolled the chair into a small sitting room. A family of detailed mannikins sat on a sofa, their heads tipped back, mouths open.

"Everything is handled very safely here, very carefully. We practice administering the gavage humanely and safely. These manikins are specially made for the job. Impressive, no?"

"So this is the deal? You're going to force-feed me to show me the error of my ways, to stop me from ordering goose-liver again?"

"Something like that. Would it not be justice?"

"It's crazy. We're omnivores. We eat meat. Comeon, let me go... I won't say anything. I promise. Besides, don't real geese eat like that? I mean, wild ones? It's not as if it's torture."
Original source:
"No? Would it be torture to force-feed them to point of organ failure, to distend the abdomen until they can no longer walk, until the liver swells to many times its normal size? Does that, to you, sound like torture?"

"So you're practicing with those dummies and are going to teach me a lesson? Is that it? If I promise never to order foie gras again, do I get to leave?"

It might have been his imagination, but his captor's eyes seemed weary. "We are careful and we are humane, but this will be final. On the farms, the gavage isn't stopped until the animal nears the point of organ failure..."

The prisoner felt hands behind him grab his head, pull it backwards, lash it into place. His approached, a clear plastic tube in his hand. To the prisoner the tube looked impossibly wide, a firehose. Or a snake. Or the barrel of a gun.

"...we will stop when it is time for the slaughter."

Expert hands slid the tube down the prisoner's throat, choking off his screams.r

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