I Was A Cannibal Girl

by Lena Pancreas

How my plane was wrecked and how the sullen waves cast me upon a barren beach and how I made my way to another island, by swimming with a log, is old hat as far as news value is concerned and so I shall skip the boring details, which I am sick of, and get to the untold angle of my tale.

It's probably just as well to get one thing straight before I launch into the meat of my story. I've never been much of a hand to dawdle at the dinner table with cocktails, soup, salads, hours d'ouvres and what have you. I've never been a vegetarian. I've always been a meat and potatoes girl with the accent upon the meat. Set a juicy tenderloin steak before me and I will do it full justice and I've never had my knuckles rapped for leaving any of the lean; be it a porterhouse, prime rib, sirloin, ham, bologna or weiner schnitzel. Fancy dishes, curries, omlettes and other joys to the epicure's palate have never given me the taste satisfaction or the ultimate fulfillment of meat... meat... MEAT!

Exposure to the elements and to the other numerous hardships of being a castaway did not produce suffering comparable to the awful hunger I experienced on that miserable island. Yes, there were nuts, fruits, herbs, berries, snails, tiny fish, crabs and even an occasional turtle, but what my innards screamed for was roast beef, steak, chops - lamb or pork!

Came the day when I discovered natives on my tiny island, nice fat (if greasy) boys and girls, men and women, I had little doubt that I was in the midst of a cannibal tribe (since they all looked so well fed). Right then and there I told myself that I must keep myself hidden for if, I said to myself, I am discovered I will most surely go either into the communal pot or upon the spit.

By now my clothing was in shreds and skimpy enough to call for the whistle if worn at the burlesque. I had my bra wound about my head bandana style and my pants were tied to a stick for flagging purposes. Hanging out in all departments as I was, I felt positive that should my uncovered body be sighted by any native it would immediately result in a call for the salt, the pepper, and perhaps even a touch of barley.

My sleep was filled with nightmares which always ended as a waiter produced a huge filet mignon steak and then removed it before I could stab it with my fork. Talk about dope dizzies and going through withdrawl! Man, I never want to get off the meat kick again!

Hunger will produce cunning and the first thing you know I found myself calculating ways and means of outwitting my native neighbors. From my tree-top hideaway I could watch them and slowly but surely my mouth began to water. A plump eighteen year old maiden, breasts upright and tender, buttocks quivering, thighs full and other attributes ample would set me into a period of drooling that could mean just one thing. I was hungry. Madly hungry; for a cannibal steak!

Well, if they found me they would eat me, right? It was me or them and so... But why tell about the awful part? Was it murder or was it self-preservation? Anyway, I got me a good, fat filly.

That night at the far end of the island, sheltered by drift wood and underbrush, I cooked my first steak.

My butchering left much to be desired as I was forced to hack the meat into pieces with a spike I managed to salvage from a drifted plank. My cooking, on the other hand, left little to be desired. I first fried myself an arm. Was it delicious! First I immersed it in seawater to give it a salty tang and wrapped it in seaweed to preserve all the juices as I slowly turned it above my fire.

In the days that followed I proved myself no mean exponent of the culinary art and I did this without pot, pan or stove. I had fried breast, fricaseed thigh, boiled feet, roast belly garnished with mushrooms and turtle, toasted neck with fried eyes and other delectible, sweet dishes that would be the envy of Europe's foremost chefs! The most demanding gourmet would have savored my backed back served with shrimps and berries!

Fortunately for the tribe, I was rescued just as the carcass was reduced to well knawed bones. Even then I was preparing another trap.

That I had gained 14 pounds during my exile amazed my rescuers who were ignorant of my cannibalistic bent.

Excuse me, but I see a handsome youth entering the office. He is well proportioned and fit. He still has his baby fat. My, look at those rosy cheeks! Gee, I'll bet he would be a wonderful tidbit parboiled!

Wonderful story, I would like to eat as well sometimes!