How To Eat A Human Being

By Dan Dillard

Another collection of Scaries from the author of Demons and Other Inconveniences!

Dillard mixes black comedy with horror, disturbing imagery and characters you'll love to hate.

Somewhere between a cooking class about cannibalism and demonic mushrooms, there lies a story about the power of mirrors and the world that lies on the other side of the glass...Oh, and you know that pesky "Organ Donor" check box on your driver's license? Well, there's a reason you shouldn't check that box.

All this and more inside, from the author of Demons and Other Inconveniences and Giving Up the Ghost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dan Dillard
• Release date: May 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476202433

Dan Dillard

I write creepy. Sometimes he writes me back.In the Midwest US, there is as much folklore as anywhere else. When we're not dodging corn stalks, My wife and I raise two beautiful kids and a house full of pets.Always open for questions or discussion :)email me: [e-mail]

Book preview

HOW TO EAT

A HUMAN BEING

By Dan Dillard

To everyone who ever had an impure thought, and smiled.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to my wife Stephanie for proofreading, Gina Nagler for editing Refractions and to Tamara Martin for asking me to write a slasher story about an Amish man. I may burn for it, but it was fun. I hope you and Courtney get to make the film.

Thanks to Brett Pittman for a gruesome cover.

Thanks to my ever-growing gaggle of readers who encourage me to continue even when I feel like a fraud.

From the Author of:

Demons And Other Inconveniences

What Tangled Webs

The Unauthorized Autobiography Of Ethan Jacobs

Lunacy

The Toothless Dead

Giving Up The Ghost

Light As A Feather

The Journeyman

Dig

Come find me :

http://www.demonauthor.com

http://www.facebook.com/thedemonauthor

http://twitter.com/demonauthor

http://gplus.to/dandillard

or email me:

[e-mail] for more info!

How To Eat A Human Being

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 Dan Dillard

Cover art by Brett Pittman

ISBN: 9781476202433

License notes:

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase additional copies. If you’re reading this and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

How to Eat a Human Being

Refractions

Snakehead

Organ Donors

Tenfold

Strays

Eye For an Eye

About the Author

HOW TO EAT A HUMAN BEING

Your look of shock, I’m used to that.

Please close your bulging eyes.

First day of class has always been a bit of a surprise.

I’ll ask that you relax

as it’s more common than you’d think,

The toughest thing ‘bout eating folks,

is choosing what to drink.

A squeeze of lime, a dash of salt, to tenderize the meat

A little less for skinny ones, but chubby can’t be beat.

A roast upon a charcoal pit to liquefy the fat

Then pull a chunk and chew it up, with beer is where it’s at.

Or maybe you’re the snooty sort, who snobs about their wine

And finds that high class debutante‘s the only way to dine.

In that case wash them thoroughly,

some white sauce would be fine

But if they’re dry,

then you might have to soak them in some brine.

Maybe it’s your breakfast time as coffee starts to brew,

Kona or some chicory, the blend is up to you

Salt and smoke the belly and then fry it to a crunch,

Eggs and toast go well with flesh and make a lovely munch.

Fried or boiled or grilled or raw, always a scrumptious treat

Pork and beef might satisfy, but man’s the thrilling meat.

I’ll teach you how, sit back and watch—believe what you are seeing,

There is no shame in learning how to eat a human being.

REFRACTIONS

Daniel Hall contemplated a salt shaker while the world turned around him. He took no notice of the dozens of apathetic versions of his face that lived in the facets of the small crystal item. The smartly decorated room where he sat felt false. He’d paid a designer he didn’t like handsomely to bully him and his wife into purchasing things that showed a style that was chic. It wasn’t his style. Neither were the clothes on his back nor the vehicle in their four car garage. Nothing matched anymore and he wondered more often than not where and when it had all gone to shit. He twisted the salt shaker between his fingers, spinning it like a top, and listened to the noise it made as the circles grew smaller and smaller until it once again stood proud.

The stench of overpriced coffee interrupted his think, and he walked to the kitchen for a cup. 7:32 am. The phone would ring at precisely 8:00 am and ruin his day. They wanted a few hundred pages and he hadn’t written a word. In fact, he hadn’t scribbled anything aside from his own signature and the date in six months. The last three written pieces he’d sold had failed, each substantially worse than the one before it. They were stories he had written years ago and put on the shelf due to countless rejections. Stories that never would’ve been published for Daniel Hall the fledgling writer, but when push came to shove, Daniel Hall—the writer of the novel that the hit movie Reflections was based on—could get anything published—at least for a while. That time had passed. The failed stories had some heart, but none had that edge he’d become famous for. None had the raw power. None had whatever it is that makes a good story great.

The scent of coffee pulled him away from his worry and he stood up and went to the cabinet to find his cup. They’d been in that house for three years and he still had to search through the cabinets to find his favorite mug. It was one of the few things he’d saved from his other life. A plain blue mug he picked up at a dollar store, it was chipped around the rim and the handle had been glued not once, but three times. It was his luck-charm, good or bad, and after checking the third cabinet, he saw it was on the counter. There was a sea foam green note folded underneath:

Knew you’d be looking for this.

Love you.

Amber.

She’d signed it with a heart and kissed the paper. She still loved him even if his star had tarnished. She loved him even if he was distracted. She loved him even if he had gained a little weight and his hair was thinning. He jiggled his belly.

She’s out jogging at seven in the morning and I look like pizza dough.

He gave a smirk at the note and palmed the mug. In the refrigerator there was a bottle of creamer with some flavor or other which he poured liberally into the empty cup. Then he dumped coffee on top of it and slurped a sample.

7:36 am. There was still time to glance at the newspaper. Something in the news might spark his imagination and get those fingers typing again.

When his phone rang earlier than he’d expected, it jarred him so hard he spilled some of the coffee. He stared at it as he shook the hot liquid from his fingertips. Then he sat the one item he identified with on the counter and wiped his hands on his shirt. With a sigh, he picked up his phone and spoke.

Hello?

Dan, hi! Markus here. What have you got for me?

Markus, I’m doing great. Oh, Amber? She’s fabulous. Out jogging right now, you should take a look at her.

Yeah, Amber. She’s a go-getter. You’re the one I’m worried about. Listen, can we cut through the bullshit? I have a few clients that still generate actual money. I’d like to get back to them.

Markus’s tone made acid bubble in Daniel’s stomach and he wanted to crush the plastic handset in his fist. He rubbed an open palm across his forehead and down his face to a stubbly chin.

Look, Markus. I hate having these conversations on the phone. Let’s meet. I’ll come by your office tomorrow.

There was a long pause on the line. Daniel pictured Markus looking for an excuse to worm out of it but was surprised when he said, Yeah sure. Come by for lunch and we’ll talk about your next best seller. Around 11:30.

There was a click before he could answer, and the line went dead. He set the phone on the counter and patted his paunch. The blue mug was there, tattered and with plenty of stories to tell. Quickly, Daniel grabbed its repaired handle and dumped the contents. Then he filled it with fresh coffee—black this time—and sat down at the table without the paper. He needed an idea to pitch and he needed it quick.

He heard birds singing and then a slamming door silenced them. A melodious, Hello! came from the front hall.

Amber trotted into the kitchen moments later and pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Then she peeled off the jacket to her wind suit and continued to stretch. Sweat glistened on her neck and chest.

Hey you, she said.

Hi, he replied.

She was still firm and youthful, with energy to burn. It made him jealous as he was a year her junior and he looked ten years older. Amber leaned over to kiss his forehead and he savored the moment. She was going to shower. In less stressful times he would’ve followed her and violated her in any way he could dream up, but that morning he felt inadequate. That morning he felt inferior, like he couldn’t provide for her anymore.

See you got my note, she said and spun his blue mug around by the handle.

Then she dipped a finger in it and tasted it playfully.

I’d be lost without you, he said.

I know. I’m off to shower.

The announcement sent waves through his nether regions as it always had, but he held his position and sipped his coffee. She had no idea they were broke. She had no idea that there was no more money coming until lightning struck his cranium and planted the next great idea there. In her mind, they were well off. He was a celebrity of sorts, and she was his best friend no matter what their situation. The only person that really knew him. That fact made him reconsider joining her in the shower. He left the coffee.

He walked up the stairs to their bedroom and listened for the rush of water followed by the sound of music. She always showered to music, even back when they were broke and teaching high school English or when he was lecturing at the university. He stood in the doorway watching her silhouette through the frosted glass and breathing in the steam. He became so deep in thought he didn’t realize she was watching him back.

Honey? she said. It snapped him from his trance and his face reddened.

Busted! she said and smiled.

Then she opened the door a little wider to show her glistening body.

You want to join me?

His hand found the top button on his shirt and then his pants and underwear lay in a puddle on the floor and he was in the shower with her. For twenty minutes, Daniel Hall had no problems.

An hour later they giggled at each other as they strained to get up off the floor.

I never heard hips pop like that, he said.

I think that may have been my ankle.

Or my shoulder, he replied with a laugh.

She stood and watched him. He sat on the end of the bed and looked back.

I love you, Daniel.

Her face held a sincerity with which he could not compete. He placed one hand on her cheek and kissed her.

I love you, too. His stress lessened but lurked in the background, watching from the weeds in his brain.

You ok? she asked. She must have noticed. She always noticed.

Markus called.

Oh. More threats? she chuckled.

You laugh but I have nothing to give him.

You’ll come up with something brilliant. I know you will, she said and hugged him.

Her warm skin felt good against his face and he nuzzled in and kissed her belly. You are the brains of this operation, Amber. Always have been.

Her eyes rolled at hearing that sentence for the thousandth time. But you’re the writer, Amber protested.

I’m the writer whose one moment of brilliance was your idea. In reality, my big money book belongs to you.

One big money book is all most people get. And no one writes all alone. Writers get ideas from people, they take from people’s lives. You share ideas, don’t you?

Only the bad ones. If I have a good one, I’m keeping it for my own work. You share your ideas with me. Yours are better.

It was just a nightmare, Daniel. We all have them.

Well, we’ll be living a nightmare if I don’t come up with something soon. We’ll be back in that crappy one bedroom apartment.

As long as there’s a shower and a floor to have sex on, she said and disappeared into the bathroom with a smirk. She looked satisfied. He took some comfort in that.

Until the night Amber woke up screaming, drenched in sweat and grabbing for him, he’d been virtually unpublished—a story here and an article there. He spent the rest of that night writing. The words poured out and in no time he had a draft done, agent signed and a publisher on the hook for a fairly large advance.

Then it became a best seller that was equally well-received by fans and critics. A film based on the book spawned a handful of sequels and earned him quite a bit of money thanks in no small part to Markus. He and Amber banked a lot of money from the films which stated, Based on characters and events created by Daniel Hall in the opening credits.

While his name was still in every household, he finally sold the first novel that he’d dreamed up all on his own. The reception was a bit more cautious and the critics loved it, but it didn’t sell well. Daniel toured as a guest speaker and even showed up at a few larger conventions for the horror fans just to sign some autographs.

His third book whimpered in sales and acclaim and quickly faded away. His fans on social media dwindled and some were quite angry. His interviews had been national television and radio, big magazines. Then suddenly, they were regional, and finally local things of pity. In ten years, Daniel Hall rode that slide from the peak all the way to the bottom, and poor Amber was still in love with him. She had no idea it had all come to an end. Maybe he could go back to teaching.

The has-been circuit. Conventions and college lectures. Ugh.

Those were