One Last Meal
Amy Giang (11)
Quietly, like a shadow, I watch this drama unfold scene by scene. More accurately, like a ghost due to my current situation.
“What do you mean we ran out of meat!” That would be the head chef. Usually he’s as cool as a meat freezer; presently, however, he’s red in the face, eyebrows scrunching, mouth snarling, veins bulging, sweat matting his hair. Someone’s certainly having a rough day.
“W-we got the exact amount you ordered, chef. B-but more people were invited last minute. W-we… there’s no more bodies.” The cook flinches when head chef slams his fist on the counter.
“Well find more or you’re up next!” That poor bastard. He’s definitely next on the chopping boards.
The other cooks continue to work, unfazed by the incident as they bustle around trying to keep up with the orders, chaos behind every step, whisk, chop, and sizzle. Like Hell’s Kitchen. I only wish it was Hell’s Kitchen. At least they don’t serve people.
Yup. They are cannibals. The main course? Me.
Personally, I’m a bit honored. I never expected the day where I would be deemed the tastiest. I’m mostly insulted, though. Sure, I was shocked and horrified, but I got over it. They should’ve at least asked. Consent is important.
I huff, an irritated ghost standing in a corner, unsure where to go and still not one hundred percent dead.
“Hey. I’m Pat.”
I turn my head, staring at the spirit next to me.
“Uh… hey?”
“I’m guessing that’s you they’re chopping up?” she asks, grinning.
“Y-yeah.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Obviously it sucks. I really love the food here. Too bad they were feeding me other people,” I reply, chuckling awkwardly. Wait. Does that mean I’m a cannibal? Oh jeez I might be a cannibal.
“Nah, they don’t. It’s a ‘normal’ restaurant until today. All the cannibals in the state are specially invited. See, they feed people the best food, pick a bunch of victims, and, well, here you are.” Whew. Not a cannibal then.
“How did you end up here? How do you know so much about this place?” I ask.
“I landed a job as a dishwasher but accidentally wandered into the secret meat freezer, the one with humans. I think I got knocked on the head but the next thing I knew, I’m dead and watching them cut my body up. And, uh, a couple of others told me before they moved on.”
“Ah, I see. When do, uh… what do we become? Reborn?”
She shrugs. “Not sure but the others just disappeared. Poof.”
A scream outside the kitchen pierces the air. Pat and I remain motionless, only turning to look at each other in confusion. The cooks drop everything. I hear tables flipping, glass shattering. More screams, but now with gunshots.
Bam!
The kitchen door slams open and the person breathlessly yells, “The police is gonna blow this up! Run!”
Too late. A hissing ball rolls between her legs.
She looks down. “Sh-”