Vegans Are Tastier

By Joe DeMarco

Take an evolutionary journey through time and space in an unexpected vegan book that includes branding, hunting, spanking, torture, death and cannibalism.

21st Century Historian (Gentile Rainn): On occasion, before dying out and destroying themselves, the meat-eaters were seen hanging around back alleys of pubs drinking and fighting, sometimes sodomizing each other.

21st Century Historian (Herb Dean): If you look at things with hindsight, the meat-eaters never really had a chance. I mean, they were so hypocritical to the point where they would have one animal, whom they loved and cared for, living with them (Some of these animals were referred to as dogs. Note the dyslexic reference to God), and in the same moment would bleed and suffer another animal so they could devour its charred flesh for supper.

Local Vegan (Said Huster): The idea that vegetarians and meat-eaters were both Homo sapiens is a post-mortem thought gone the way of the moo-cow. Homo sapiens were by nature very self-gratifying. In other words, they didnt care what they murdered or whom they hurt in crimes of hunger and passion. They acted very cruelly towards one another. Religions were developed to try to right these instinctual behaviors, but these religions did little to deter most Homo sapiens hell-bent on self-delusions of pride. Sometime around the turn of the twenty-fourth century, the first true Homo nexus was born. (See also Homo vegetare.)

21st Century Historian (Herb Dean): Moo-cows became extinct, though it is unknown whether this happened before or after the demise of the human (meat-eater) omnivore. A strain of CuuD Disease (almost always spelled capital C, lower case u, lower case u, capital D), a mutation of mad cow disease, killed roughly 99 percent of the cows, roughly two-thirds of the carnivores on the land, and most human omnivores. It is believed the other human omnivores destroyed themselves through wars, terrorist acts and unhealthy diets, or starved to death rather than eat vegetables.

21st Century Historian (Willow Whittier): It is said the last meat-eater died sometime around the turn of the 23rd century. His name was said to have been Ronald McDonald.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456748289

Joe DeMarco

Joseph DeMarco was born in New York City; he grew up in Buffalo, NY. He has taught seventh grade on the island of Oahu, Hawaii for the last ten years. He is the author of the novels Plague of the Invigilare, The 4 Hundred and 20 Assassins of Emir Abdullah-Harazins, At Play in the Killing Fields, Blind Savior, False Prophet and Vegans Are Tastier. He is currently working on several new projects.

Book preview

Contents

The First Cave Painting

(PCD) or Pre-CuuD

File:

C70588

VHS Tape #1 Cannibals Shouldn’t Eat Brains

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals

Adam vs. The Animist

File:

C90970

VHS Tape #2 If He Hollers, Let Him Go!

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals

Hominid See, Hominid Do

File:

C30282

VHS Tape #3 The Birds, the Bees and Butch Cutter’s Birthday Barbecue

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals

Pet Names

File:

C13944

VHS Tape #4 Black Dog and a Couple of Chickens

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals

Death Spares Not the Cockroach

File:

C433657

VHS Tape #5 T. Rex and the Steakhouse Or You Don’t Win Friends With Salad

The Seventh Mass Extinction Leading to the

CuuD

Pandemic

File:

C05866

DVD #1 Wouldn’t You Like To Be a Pepper, Too?

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals

The Browns’ Dinner Party

File:

C04322

DVD #2 Red Submarine

Homo Nexus

(See also: Homo Vegetare)

File:

E06905

HsS-pod #1 The

Mad

CuuD Pandemic or Where Have You

Taken

my Wife?

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals

Don Pablo and The Guinea Pig Experiment

File:

E06844

HsS-pod #2 Caged Animals

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals

The Human Farm

Part 1

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals

Apocalypse Training

File:

E06367

HsS-pod #3 Where the Grass Does Not Grow Or Silent Spring at the Slaughterhouse Or The Mad

CuuD

Party

An excerpt from: The Book of Soulless Animals All Dogs Go to Heaven, Humans Ain’t so Lucky

File:

E70464

D-Tron Brain Scan The Last Village

The First Cave Painting

Some slightly less than intelligent scientists speculate that sometime around 33,000 years ago, the first Cro-Magnon man found a red, rock-like substance (ocher) and started to rub it over another rock. The result was a miracle, or so many wise men have prophesized. What the Cro-Magnon man discovered was a kind of magic. By rubbing his impression over the rock, he could leave his mark, so to speak. It might be there long after his bones had disintegrated into dust, after his kin were put in the ground. It could be his legacy. This primitive painting might outlast mankind itself. Who knows?

These same slightly less than intelligent scientists also hypothesize that that first red, rock-like substance (ocher) was used to draw a picture of a great buffalo or a deer or an antelope or any animal that the tribe wished to kill, and that the tribe might have practiced their technique of hunting by throwing sticks and rocks at the impression left on the cave wall. This might have been an early form of target practice. After all, when you’re throwing a spear, you only get one shot.

Other still crazier but perhaps smarter scientists have tried to imply that these images were part of some kind of Cro-Magnon shaman hunting magic. The shaman would disappear into the blackness of the cave. He could be gone for weeks. Somewhere toward the back, under a hallucinogenic trance, the shaman would draw the animal on the wall in hopes of increasing the numbers of this animal. The shaman would have a vision, and the hunt would begin.

It has also been theorized by scientists who were not completely witless that before cave paintings, Neanderthals may have in fact used the red substance (ocher) to paint their bodies and genitals in an attempt to attract members of the opposite sex. The red color might have symbolized in the primate’s mind the color of fertility. For this reason I submit that the first cave paintings were not of deer or buffalo, I believe they were more likely in fact adolescent masturbation tools. Picture primitive pornography. A Cro-Magnon man might have drawn giant red yaboos and some luscious hourglass curves, then pulled out his one-eyed winkie for some fun. A lazier Cro-Magnon man might have even tried to find a crevice, preferably a mossy one. Something like a Cro-Magnon blow-up doll. And, well, I think you can figure out the rest. As ridiculous as this sounds, even Cro-Magnon man was probably finding creative ways to masturbate since the dawn of time. I knew a guy who used to do his seating area. Not that he got off from doing his seating area, I mean he would be watching pornography, and then he’d adjust the cushions depending on the mood he was in; tight or loose, skinny or plump. I learned this, of course, after having sat on his seating area for no less than 300 hours. 300 hours on a sperm-soaked seating area. A cave is looking pretty good right about now. My point is that although eating may come across as instinctual, I do not believe that hunting is. Although our primate ancestors were omnivores, any human that kills an animal and devours its raw flesh will get sick and throw up. It wasn’t until the invention or discovery of fire that humans could slow roast an animal on skewers and were able to digest the cooked meat. Hunting was a choice, not an instinct, possibly the only choice during a long winter. Or, even more likely, it is probable that hunting first started not out of necessity, but to gain dominance among other males as well as gain access to a harem of females, which ultimately was male’s true purpose, procreating, which brings us back to sex. Was hunting really started as a prehistoric Pleistocene way to score women? Some not completely worthless scientists speculate yes. So to me it makes more sense that the first art of man would have been something dreamed and fantasized about, something innate inside the mind of man like, say for instance, sex.

-Herb Dean, 21st Century Historian

 (PCD) or Pre-CuuD

21st Century Historian (Gentile Rainn): On occasion, before dying out and destroying themselves, the meat-eaters were seen hanging around back alleys of pubs drinking and fighting, sometimes sodomizing each other.

21st Century Historian (Herb Dean): If you look at things with hindsight, the meat-eaters never really had a chance. I mean, they were so hypocritical to the point where they would have one animal, whom they loved and cared for, living with them (Some of these animals were referred to as dogs. Note the dyslexic reference to God), and in the same moment would bleed and suffer another animal so they could devour its charred flesh for supper.

21st Century Historian (Willow Whittier): It is said ritualistic meat-eaters killed and ate the flesh of fellow peaceful Terran animals up to three times a day.

Veterinary Pathologist (Boris Zacariah): We now know, and can prove, that both hate and anger can be transferred from being to being by the ingesting of that being’s earthly remains. Back then, of course, they had no idea why they were so angry or unhappy.

Psychologist (Susan Day): Diseases of the mind were made up to explain the unexplainable. Schizophrenia, alcoholism, bi-polar disorder, autism, ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) were a few of these invented diseases. Pills were passed out regularly. This just led them further from enlightenment.

21st Century Historian (Willow Whittier): Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder was perhaps the most ironic and comical disease because it was mostly diagnosed in the uncontrollable adolescents of meat-eaters. The meat-eaters gave their youth these drugs all the while telling their young, Don’t do drugs!

Local Vegan (Said Huster): The idea that vegetarians and meat-eaters were both Homo sapiens is a post-mortem thought gone the way of the moo-cow. Homo sapiens were by nature very self-gratifying. In other words, they didn’t care what they murdered or whom they hurt in crimes of hunger and passion. They acted very cruelly towards one another. Religions were developed to try to right these instinctual behaviors, but these religions did little to deter most Homo sapiens hell-bent on self-delusions of pride. Sometime around the turn of the twenty-fourth century, the first true Homo nexus was born. (See also Homo vegetare.)

21st Century Historian (Herb Dean): Moo-cows became extinct, though it is unknown whether this happened before or after the demise of the human (meat-eater) omnivore. A strain of CuuD Disease (almost always spelled capital C, lower case u, lower case u, capital D), a mutation of mad cow disease, killed roughly 99 percent of the cows, roughly two-thirds of the carnivores on the land, and most human omnivores. It is believed the other human omnivores destroyed themselves through wars, terrorist acts and unhealthy diets, or starved to death rather than eat vegetables.

21st Century Historian (Willow Whittier): It is said the last meat-eater died sometime around the turn of the 23rd century. His name was said to have been Ronald McDonald.

[Very few VHS tapes and even fewer DVD discs were found, along with some HsS-pod holographic sensation stimulation recordings and one D-tron brain scan virtual recording, inside an underground lead safe in what was once the State of Texas of the American Empire of United States. These recordings from shortly after the turn of the 22nd century reflect Homo sapiens’ attitude and omnivorous lifestyle. Many were damaged. Fortunately a few remain unscathed by Time’s omniscient power. This is some of the only footage of our extinct cousins.]

[A large chunk of information, roughly the entire database of the America Empire of United States’ Library of Congress was lost forever when The Empire collapsed from within in the 2070’s. The Vatican Library was buried in molten lava and volcanic ash in 2198. Most of the rest of the copies of popular books were burned during The Great Purge of 2222, leaving most of Western civilization a mystery. The Great Purge is said to have occurred when mankind (whether they be Homo sapiens or Homo vegetare) decided they didn’t like the direction they were going in, and either destroyed themselves unintentionally or purposely cleansed themselves of all harmful aspects of their culture. You be the judge.]

[It is sad, and perhaps satirically comical, that the only two books left in existence from before The Great Purge are The Book of Soulless Animals and Paddington Loses a Button. Both books have been studied fully, although very little of what is printed in The Book of Soulless Animals makes any sense at all. Most of the book is believed to be dark sarcastic humor but it is unknown for certain. The title The Book of Soulless Animals is believed to be a mockery of the belief held by many Homo sapiens that man is master of his dominion and is the only animal that has a soul. This belief was often used as a flimsy justification to slaughter innocent animals for food. Periodically we will share excerpts from The Book of Soulless Animals when we feel it is pertinent. ]

[The following 11 videos have been compiled for a study on the behavior of human meat-eaters. For although their ways may seem alien to us, we might learn from this distant cousin, so as to avoid a similar fate. The following scenes may shock and disturb you. Parental guidance is suggested.]

File: C70588 VHS Tape #1 Cannibals Shouldn’t Eat Brains

Saturday-05/12/1997

11:05 AM - A small hominid Homo sapiens female that cannot be more than eleven or twelve years of age stands before the camera. She is a Caucasoid, but there appears to be a slight bit of Mongoloid in her lost eyes. The little female is oddly shaped, almost lopsided. It looks as if one arm is slightly bigger than the other, as though she may have been the runt of the litter and never fully evened out. Estimated Body Fat 6%. Still this runt stands tall and proud, her back straight, her neck arched, her eyelids fluttering nervously. This female is completely surrounded by middle-aged males. Most of them are balding and badly dressed in cheap black and blue formal attire, faded sports jackets with cotton tee shirts underneath. The males look as though they are crowding her, as if she is the main attraction. She flutters her eyelids once more, and the males move in closer. Some preening her, others primping her.

In back of this crowd are some type of stable and barn, and various wire fences going back into countryside as far as the eye can see, with the exotically extinct moo-cows grazing and horses galloping by the camera every once in a while. The little female is holding a microphone in one hand while she dabs her lips with a white cloth. She is dressed in a pink business suit and matching high heels along with black stockings. The outfit and make-up give her an older appearance. When she walks, it is clear she is not comfortable wearing the two-inch heels. She half trips, shuffling her feet awkwardly, walking with a limp, then a saunter. She almost falls; a balding male holds her up. Her lips are smeared with pastel pink lipstick to match her suit and her eyelids are powdered jade green with a lot of eye shadow. Her eyelids flutter with mascara, as she pats her brown hair that is pulled back tight.

Remember what we talked about, one of the fat bald yolks[1] tells the little female. The males slowly one by one disappear off camera. The little female pouts her lips, making a kissing gesture toward the camera. All of a sudden someone yells out, In five…four…three… … …ACTION.

The little female holds the microphone up. "This is Molly Magee reporting live from Thompson’s Dairy Farm in Little Brook, and we’re here to discover the truth behind the origin of mad cow disease.

Where does it come from? How do you get it? Kuru or laughing disease first gained national attention when there was an outbreak within several tribes in New Guinea. Scientists attributed the outbreak to the fact that many tribe members contracted the virus from the act of partaking in ritual cannibalism or consuming flesh to return the life force. Scientists later re-evaluated their diagnosis and decided kuru was more accurately caused by the consumption of human brain." Molly takes a much needed breath.

Mad cow disease, bovine spongiform encephalopithy or BSE, first turned up in Britain in the 1980’s.

CUT, a yolk yells.

"Bovine spongiform encephalopathy, a male corrects the little female while painting her up like a clown. Molly scowls in the direction of the camera until the unseen yolk says, In five…four…three… … …ACTION." Then a façade of a smile crosses Molly’s lips and she perks up looking chipper, if not happy.

Bovine spongiform encephalopathy. The spongiform stands for the way in which the disease eats sponge-like holes in your brain, Molly starts to say.

CUT, the unseen yolk yells.

You’re going to open with that? the unseen yolk asks.

Molly is now having trouble concealing her distaste for this unseen male for a few moments, then she appears to suck it down inside of her and a more vicious, deliberate smile crosses her lips. It is an all-teeth smile.

The unseen yolk yells, In five…four…three… … …ACTION.

Kuru appears to be the human version of BSE, and wouldn’t you know it, those fuckers were feeding cows cow brains, Molly announces enraged.

CUT, the unseen yolk yells. "You can’t say fuckers on TV."

Duh, Molly mouths.

Look, the cameraman informs her. Just keep going. We’ll splice together a couple of the takes. The miracle of editing.

Molly still does not seem happy. It isn’t until the unseen yolk says, In five…four…three… … …ACTION, that she even attempts to smile.

BSE, which first turned up in Britain in the 1980’s, is thought to have been caused by cows, which are normally herbivores, being fed the brains of other cows. Obviously the comparison has been made with zombies, since in the terminal stage of BSE an unknown agent eats sponge-like holes in your brain.

CUT, the unseen yolk yells, the comparison made with zombies.

Since you’re splicing, it’s my news story, and I’ll play up any angle I like. Molly pouts miserably, but she also hides a smirk under that pout. A smirk of triumph.

If you’re not going to take this seriously, we can call in Emily Rodrigues, the yolk says calmly, coming onto the screen. He pulls out a cellular device, and begins punching buttons.

A touch of fear crosses over that pout under that smirk. Molly straightens up.

All right, Molly says sighing, as if she is giving up.

In five…four…three… … …ACTION, says the unseen yolk one more time.

"Bovine spongifirm encephalopathy is thought to be caused by a folded-over protein called a prion," Molly says.

CUT, the cameraman yells.

"Spongiform," the unseen yolk corrects loudly. It is more of a scold.

A strange sound emanates from the back of the camera: electronic beeps and burbles, Da…Da…Da…Don…Da…Da…Da…Don…DaDaDaDon! Along with a synthesizer.

Hello, someone says.

We may need Emily, he says quietly. I can’t work with this Bi— he trails off.

His voice is louder now, as if he has turned toward the camera.

What do you mean she’s not available? he snaps.

The camera is still facing Molly, whose look sweeps by brokenhearted and sways into disdain. Tears start to roll down Molly’s cheeks. Her eye shadow is running, and all at once, she looks like a blue super villain.

You can’t replace me. she yells into the camera, You BassTard. Molly says the final word as if she is unsure of the enunciation of it.

I’ll get you for this, she says, long war paint-like blue streaks now running down her face. She storms off screen.

Molly! the yolk yells, and a bunch of people come running out from behind the camera, chasing Molly. Three of the five are bearded balding males who are wearing fairly expensive suits. Four of the five have the top two buttons of their shirts unbuttoned, exposing their chest hair. Five of the five are wearing gold chains. As they run past the camera, one is holding a cellular device up to his ear, and yelling, Well, can you get Jessica Parker?

There is a pause.

What do you mean she does movies now? What, she’s such a big shot she can’t help out an old friend?

And then he is off screen, having disappeared for the time being. All that remains are the stable and fences in the background. A horse runs by. There is a long period of ennui. The wind blows through the trees. We hear the sacred moo-cow moo. Even the camera adjusts its focus so as to avoid falling into sleep mode.

Only briefly one of the men with hair comes on camera, speaking with his mistress, I can’t go to Acapulco. You don’t understand. It’s crowded this time of year anyway. My wife would kill me. I can’t go. You don’t understand. No, you’re not going over there, and then he paces off. When he is gone there is a richer silence.

Eventually Molly is back. All her make-up is washed off, and her eyes are red. The yolks are treating her like the Queen of Israel.[2]

Molly still looks moody. She sits in a chair while a rather feminine-looking male does her make-up. He is the only male not showing chest hair, though he is still wearing a golden chain. He talks with a lisp and has a strange accent. Don’t worry, sister, we’ll have you looking good as new in no time.

Molly continues to pout, while the effeminate male goes to work with brushes and tiny instruments, sculpting her face back into what society deems beautiful. He works quickly, and soon Molly’s eyes go from red and puffy to emerald and sparkly. She pops and smacks her lips as he puts on the same tacky pink lipstick to match her outfit.

See, sweetheart, now isn’t that much better? He is holding out a little head-sized mirror in which Molly can look at herself. She turns and tilts her head. She touches her cheek.

More blush, she snottily insists. The male powders some more on.

You missed a spot, she says, pointing to the dimple above her left cheek. She rises from the chair, grabs her microphone and is back in front of the camera.

Molly, we are gonna have to interview Mister Thompson’s maintenance man, says the unseen voice from behind the camera. If we have to, we can do the opening again later, the voice explains.

The camera is taken off the tripod and is shakily moving, and you can tell by the canned noise and remarks, so is the group of yolks behind it. They are headed toward the stable; Molly is out in front. Molly stops when she gets to the stable, as she is unsure of where to go. She turns around flailing her arms. She waits as one of the bald yolks takes the lead, turning left, and taking them through a gate off to the side.

The group is walking through a field; up ahead in the distance is a silo and a large red barn. Cattle lounge lazily, grazing in the field. The grass is long, and shrubs, along with many small bushes, are covering dozens of footfalls, crevices and slopes in the ground.

After about five minutes of tedious walking, the group reaches the barn and silo, travels through another gate, and turns left down a gravel path. The gravel path seems to lead along the back of the property to a hunting lodge at the base of a great forest. The hunting lodge looks empty and abandoned. The paint is peeling badly near the north end of the lodge.

The camera and the group go through a back entrance leading into a kitchen at the rear of the lodge. Just inside the kitchen is a male wearing flannel and camouflage; he has disheveled hair and scruff on his face. The scruff is like a blanket of brown moss disguising his face. The male’s shirt is a checkered flannel of red and black, while his pants are camouflage green and brown. This scruffy male appears to be skinning some kind of animal, from the looks of it, a fox. The scruffy male barely even turns when he hears the door creak, though he changes his demeanor slightly. As he turns the animal over, the camera gets a shot right into the dead eyes of the fox. The male is slicing the intestines and entrails of this furry orange animal with a thin razor-sharp knife. The male whistles as he cuts the meat along a thin line that makes it look like he is separating sheets of meat. His slices are made of thin, even strips of flesh and hide.

Even though the male looks rather rough around the edges, he is clearly educated. There is even something in his enunciation that screams erudite or maybe it is his strange accent, which sounds like an affectation, as if he made it up on the ride over. Estimated Body Fat 3-4%. The scruffy male does not need to be questioned, he goes straight into his spiel. The guy behind the camera doesn’t yell action or anything. A lot of peeple think ’umans ah carnivores. He rubs his scruff. That’s not reelly akcurate, ’umans ah omnivores, because they eat plants and an’maals, but scientifically speaking, ’umans ah a lot more like ’erbivores, the male says as he slices the fox’s stomach down the middle. Red rushes out, juices drip from the stomach and intestines onto the male’s boots; slime, blood, and bile hang from his knife; he pays them no mind.

See thair ah certain characteristics that all carnivores ’ave like claws, no pores on the skin, acid saliva, and a short intestinal tract, that all ’umans DO NOT ’ave. The male pulls out the fox’s intestines and shows them to the camera. He stretches and un-stretches them. They are not very long.

A ’uman intestine is many times this length. He goes back to slicing the dead carcass.

’umans ’ave many things in common with ’erbivores, the male informs us, pulling out the spleen. We sleep like ’erbivores, we have long intestines like ’erbivores. This is because plant foods decay slowly taking thair time ta pass through the body.

The scruffy male holds the fox’s heart in his hand. His whole hand is covered in a red plasmic goo. Meat rots too quickly, that is why all carnivores ’ave short intestinal tracts. Our intestines ah too long for the rapidly decaying flesh of a an’maal.

Thair ah other things, too, the male says grabbing the fox’s head. More flesh, slime, and organs spill onto the floor.

Teeth, for instince, the male says flipping the fox’s jowls up, revealing the fox’s pointy teeth.

We simply do not ’ave the carnivorous instinct. When we see an an’maal we do not feel the need ta rip its flesh open and snack on its insides. We would in fact be appalled if someone were ta do that, yet we eat meat after it ’as been procissed because we ah conditioned to. A comeedian named ’arvey Diamond once said, if ya put a baby n a crib with a rabbit and an apple, if the baby eats the rabbit and plays with the apple, I’ll buy ya a new car. The male looks for a second as if he is going to take a bite of the fox, but does not.

’umans do not instinctually eat meat, it is a learned behavior, the scruffy male says smiling. He seems as if he has run out of things to talk about.

What do you say to critics who claim eating meat gave primates the capacity to expand the brain evolutionarily making us what we are today? Molly asks as if she is reading it off a cue card.

Thair is no question in ah past as a species that we ’ave been brutal savages, and yes, without a diet of meat, primates wouldn’t ’ave been able to sustain ’igher brain functions, but my point is where we ah going. Peeple claim vegetarians ah not as strong, but what about the ox that pulls man’s plow, is ’e not a vegetarian?

Molly seems to want to be in the center of the screen, never missing her chance to look into the camera. What can you tell us about mad cow disease or kuru? she asks holding the microphone annoyingly close to his face. Molly plugs her nose; she has a look of repugnance on her face.

It’s a ’orrible disease, eats ’oles in ya brain like swiss cheese. Of course the cause is cannibalism. They call it the laughing disease.

Molly looks into the camera smiling. Why’s that?

Molly puts her hand over her nose. She makes a gagging motion away from the camera.

In the latter stages patients ’ave been known ta laugh maniacally.

’Ahaa- ’aaahah- ’aha- rajah, the male laughs with a crazy look in his eye.

Molly looks toward the scruffy male. The male is finished. There is an awkward moment of silence, which on camera can last a millennium. Molly looks down as if she is sorting through index cards in her brain, and then she asks quickly, What can you tell us about animal rights?

Well, a big pot of the argument ’as to do with empathy…do an’maals ’ave feelings? Many folks ah quick to assume since an’maals ’ave much smaller brains, they do not feel pain like ’umans. I can assure ya, if you cut ’n an’maal open, it feels just as much pain as if I were ta cut ya open with this ’ere knife. The male holds the knife like a trained killer as he sizes Molly up, as if he is thinking about gutting her.

He reaches toward her; Molly flinches and squeals a little under her breath. She takes a step back.

So, little girl, ask yaself if ya would like ta be cut up and served fur dinner, because I ’onestly believe an’maals do not.

If we could talk with the beast, see the look in ’is eye, ya might feel the same as I.

The scruffy male spins around quickly and disappears off camera.

CUT, an unseen voice yells.

Molly asks a male behind the camera, How was that?

Good, answers a voice. We still need to get more. At the same time another yolk voice asks, Where is he going?

As the camera turns, the scruffy male disappears through a hallway. He is gone for the moment.

Maybe we should wrap it up, says a voice.

No way, says another voice. She’s got her hand over her nose, plus we don’t nearly have enough footage. Bob said this needed to be at least a twelve-minute segment.

Molly is biting her lip. A male comes over to tend to her. He is powdering her face with a big fluffy white poof-ball.

He smells, Molly tells the make-up male.

It’s okay sweetheart, the male says in an effeminate voice. As the male starts to fix her hair, the scruffy male bursts through the door with a Sus scrofa domesticus, or more commonly known as a hog or pig, on a leash.

In the wake of this rather giant hog, the make-up male practically gets knocked over.

This ’ere is ’ogwood…’e is a good good pig, the scruffy male tells the camera.

Did you get that? asks the unseen voice.

The make-up male scurries off camera.

The camera nods up and down.

ACTION, says the unseen yolk.

Ya see all an’maals feel pain. Ya do not need a complex brain ta scream out in ag’ny.

The scruffy-looking male starts clearing stuff out of the way. Behind him is a gas stove.

The scruffy male disappears back through the door. The hog patiently sits in the corner making a few grunting and snorting noises. The scruffy male returns a second later holding a giant glass mirror. He presents the mirror to the camera and then turns it toward the hog. The pig sniffs the mirror lightly, not really looking into the depth the mirror is presenting.

The scruffy male pulls out a large, black writing utensil and draws a