House special.

I feel a rumbling in my tummy.

What do I have that’s yummy?

Not much to eat inside this house,

except, perhaps, a single mouse.

Not a single scrap of grain or meat,

not one single, solitary, treat.


The cow out in the pasture?

I’d have to run much faster.

The chicken in the coop?

I’d end up covered in their poop.

Perhaps a fish from in my pond?

The time for that is, surely long gone.


What I crave, it’s much,  more sweet.

I have it in a room, my room for my meats..

It’s a precious secret that I keep,

a whole room stocked, full of meat.

I used to like to try to name them,

sometimes even try to train them.

Now it’s more than enough amusement,

just to be the one to maim them.


Another grumble from my stomach

and my thinking is sharp and clear.

Yes, that will be it,

a plant to commit.

One of them, my midnight treat!

These men I keep are  in such defeat.

Yes! Them, these men, one of them will become my meat.


Now, just to choose…

Do I select my meal by their health?

Maybe by their wealth?

Maybe by their looks?

Or who’ll be more fun to cook?


Being that they’re numbered, maybe I’ll just choose #3.

#1 a huge error, my first mistake.

He died from a blow to the heart,

with momentum and strength.

he died in a moment, a blow with a stake.


#2 I, miscalculated and my judgement was off.

he turned out to be loud,

singing his same old song.

I came to the conclusion to burn him alive,

and into a thick, black cloud, he did rise.


But #3, he will work just fine.

So fit, and so willing,

he’d always been mine.

He I will choose, 

he will do just fine.


Now that I have chosen,

not much left to do.

A moment to think, to gather my wits.



My recipe of sorts.


He’ll scream right on through the tenderization,

I’m sure still aware, of the butchorizatioin.

I’ll leave him to marinate while preparing my spices.

A more merciful way of being killed,

that would require some skill.

I’d consider the favor, 

moments before the kill,

but decide to deny it, just for a thrill.


As he simmers with my roux 

while I’m dancing over stew.

My heart palpitates,

I just can’t wait.

This meal fills my dreams,

it’s always felt obscene.

This aroma ignites my senses,

a frenzy then commences.

Now, finally, while I’m dining,

on this stew that feels divining.

It feels so close to fate,

this is the best stew I’ve ever ate.

Published by:

A Maverick named Gonzo.

I've written short stories, poetry, and have journaled since I was 10. I've had poetry published, short stories, and articles on various subjects. Some of the subjects I've published articles on are: "How-to", People who have contributed to the technological advancements of Tattooing, Body Piercing, and various other Body Modification practices, and BDSM. I volunteer for an organization that helps people that are in need of financial assistance in order to afford the mental health care they greatly need to live, and finally, I've been publishing erotic short stories that end up of the psychological thriller/Horror nature. I teach kids how to fish at another volunteer gig. I get to teach kids, 7-12 years old all kinds of things. Like conservation of our coasts and critters. We are involved in turtle nesting and protection, fishing (hooked on fishing, not on drugs). I like free-diving at my beach. Meeting sharks, rays, and any fish you can imagine. I also do a little spearfishing when I'm not angling from the coast.

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