He knows that where I work there are old geezers. Surely some of those elderly wrecks croak upon occassion? Why don't I just carve the fatty inner thighs off the corpses and bring them home? They're probably still juicy.
TURKEY VULTURE
It would benefit everyone. My employers, because he's a waste disposal specialist. The garbage men, because the body bags would be so much lighter, almost as if they only contained children. The deceased too, because they were serving a good cause.
And the turkey vulture, because he would be served.
He is hungry, and I am disobedient.
What is wrong with me?!?!
Wouldn't he like some nice salami instead? "No, that's HUMAN food! Inedible!" This from a creature that happily scarfs down part of every meal in this place, whether it's my apartment mate's or mine, as well as shares from her bags of chips, or my cookies. A somewhat plump avian carophage. An exceptionally perky dark brooding presence.
HE LOOKS AT ME SPECULATIVELY
He has his own ideas about what humans are good for.
Evidently cooking skills are not part of that.
Our culinary usefulness is different.
AFTERWORD
The elderly dessicated not-yet-corpses I associate with at work are by any measure quite indigestible, and likely to upset the stomachs of sensitive people, especially when they open their mouths. But they aren't likely to croak on the premises, unless it's from excitement when watching sports on the telly in the backroom. That might be more than they can handle.
It's not something I would encourage.
In any case, if they did so, I'd simply drag them out to the tidal flats.
I do not want their fatty inner thighs in my backpack.
Even if wrapped in plastic film.
I am fastidious!
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