Beef Consomme (2018) auxiliary story to 'Duke over the Massacre'

Let us begin this story with a soldier. His name, forgotten; but his deeds resounded throughout the few people who knew him, all of which are now dead. He was awarded multiple decorations that now hang on a misshapen nail on his termite-infested wall, as the alloy rusts away beneath the gold plating.

All of this is now insignificant, for he is a cantankerous old man that everybody hates; his drunken fiascos tear up the nice and quiet of a near-perfect neighborhood. I say near-perfect because it would be; if it weren’t for him…

It was Sunday morning. The old ladies ran up to the church to get the prime seats and as I put on my Sunday clothes, my sister Anna calls me from downstairs.

“Guiles!” she called my attention. “Get ready for church!” she told me. I tied up my black bowtie and went down the stairs and on to breakfast.

“Guiles, can you take this plate to….”

“Nope.” I immediately hesitated, averting my attention elsewhere. “Why is he still with us?” I asked.

“You can’t choose family Guiles….” That was her reasoning.

It always was. I knew she hated him too, but her reputation would crumble if she manifested that fact. Good, Sunday Christian woman with morals as intact as her hymen. No trace of blasphemy crosses her lips, but if she had the chance, the lips of another man would suffice for she too hid adulterous fantasies.

“Well, I’ll go do it…” she said. “Just clean up and get ready before I get back….”

She was taking a plate of ham and eggs to our deadbeat ‘uncle’ who shacked up nearby. In the pristine white picket fence lines and suburban houses, his wooden shack was a real eyesore. The fucking mongrel he was.

After church service was a Sunday luncheon that Father Charles would throw and everyone would be invited. The ingredients were donated and so everyone pitched in by helping with the cooking or bringing in whatever they had.

This week, I had brought in some pre-sliced. My father was a butcher back when he was still alive, so I was very lucky to have studied under him, however little time we had left together.

“Guiles!” Father Charles said in an open embrace. “What do you have for us this week?” he asked cordially.

“Around forty-five kilos of beef, Father...” I said proudly, wheelbarrow at hand and a messy half tied apron hanging from my neck.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I’m sure your father would have been proud!” the priest said, picking up a steak. “…for both your skill and generosity!”

“Anything for the community, Father…”

“Though I have some concern regarding the meat…” father Charles asked, rather worriedly as he took a closer look at it.

My face was immediately flustered. A cold sweat ran down my back.

“If you’re giving this much meat…” he asked. “Well…I’m just worried this is something your shop could have profited off, no?”

I sighed in relief. “Father…” I said, catching my breath. “If it’s all okay with you, a donation is meant to be without any reservations of the intent,” I said intellectually.

Father Charles let out a radiant smile, one where the corners of his mouth touched his crow’s feet wrinkles. He quickly took the wheelbarrow and wheeled it in the makeshift outdoor kitchen.

The luncheon had started and the whole congregation came in to enjoy their meal. Everyone came and everyone had a share. Father Charles was at the helm of the front, ladling out bowls of broth and rice.

I sat down, not touching my food. I did not feel hungry at noon. Then, soon enough, I felt Anna’s hand touch my shoulder. I quickly turned around to address her concerns.

“Anna?” I asked, turning around to face her.

“Guiles…” she said. “Have you seen Uncle Ray?” she inquired.

‘Haven’t heard of him all day…” I replied. “But he’s probably in his shed, passed out on the floor again.”

“Well, I’ll have to find him…” she said. “He never misses Sunday Luncheon…”

“I wonder why…”

She quickly scurried home. I went to the kitchen and met Sister Marie. She had just been cutting up some onions and I asked if I could help her with anything.

“Such a gentleman for asking!” she said. “Why don’t you tenderize the beef over on the counter, there’s a mallet next to the cutting board.

I was first hesitant in doing so, but after taking a few swings and hearing the crushing sound it made was gratifying. After a few swings, I had just realized a dent in my near-perfect plan. I took off, mallet still at hand, but not without taking a few last swings.

I quickly drove on back to the house and ran through the backyard gate. From a distance, neighbors I could see my sister running. The scandalous whore found me out and that ungrateful bitch was planning to snitch on me.

I hid behind a tree and waited for her to cross. As she passed, I took her by the arm and wasted no time crushing in her skull with the mallet I had just swiped from the Sunday luncheon. Our neighbors, the mailman; everyone was at the luncheon. Nobody saw, nobody knew.

I had cut up her body as soon as Uncle Ray was completely consumed. Then I sold Anna by the pound at the shop. The blood I drained and mixed with flour, chocolate, and eggs that I baked in an oven. It made for tasty treats that I shared with my neighbours and the clergy, including father Charles. Anna’s fattier bits I boiled down with seven kilos of lye and a bottle of perfume, which made for the most excellent soap. Her leaner bits made for choice cuts, her innards, and offal I boiled and made into aspic and her brain and eyes, a wonderful head cheese.

…

…

…

“You were there too, officer?” the young man said in an interrogation room. “...the Sunday Luncheon? Everybody was there.”

“Yeah?” he said worriedly. “What of it?” he asked ever so stoically.

“Did you enjoy the beef consommé with rice?” he asked.

The officer’s stoic bravados then melted into the horror of realization. He gagged on his own spit at the sickening aspect. It couldn’t be, I couldn’t have, but I had, and I did.

“I did a good thing though…” Guiles admitted. “Uncle Ray always wanted to be remembered…” he said. “And what better way to do so than to have a little bit of him inside us all?”