Well, crap. Morals, ethics and BBQ with Galen. Just like with the breasty volcano picture, it seems like he’s dead set to out me, to do that thing that is always frowned upon, the cliché, right after the deserted Island – Yes, I’m vegan. I admit it, for the frequency's sake... Of course people ask me to do something that is against my morals, all the time, because they forget or don’t know. And yes, I refuse, most of the times.
One thing that I dislike more than personally contributing to mass slaughter industry is waste. When Lily was little, she didn’t finish all her plate, and I ate the rest of her chicken or whatever. Although, I’m not sure anymore if I count chicken as animals or sentient beings, since that cock was moved in a neighbor’s backyard. The stupid thing has no clue how to read a clock, or the stars, or the clouds or the magnetic field or whatever sets off its deplorable excuse for a crow. It’s loud, yes, but it sounds like Lily playing a recorder full of shrapnel with a lung infection. It’s even worse than the hissing speakers from the church opposite my flat, used only to imitate the sound of broken bells right out of the underworld.
So, if someone asked me to turn that cock into soup, I’m not sure if that’s an offer that I could refuse. Albeit, that critter probably won’t have much long to live, anyway, considering the condition of its “voice”.
Maybe we could turn it into a nice BBQ for Galen? It could be my gift to the party. I’m pretty good at marinating all kinds of protein, including chicken, but for me to fly over to down under – which by itself would be awesome! – to join his invitation, I’d need some assurances. First, would vegan food be allowed? Not necessarily on the grill, some people are squeamish that way, though I personally don’t mind if my exquisite Seitan touches a bit of his freshly hunted deer or kangaroo or crocodile or koala or snake or whatever they eat in that country of death. I might even kill something myself, in self-defense, I mean, from what I hear Australia is so dangerous that I probably wouldn’t make it from the airport to the cab if I didn’t shoot before being bitten, poisoned, boxed in the nuts, stabbed, spiked or whatever those animals would use against my presence. And that’s just the humans!
For good reason, though. According to my ex, I’m an expert in provoking the necessity to perform the listed acts, one after the other, some twice and very slowly. She did a few of those already, though in a more pleasant context. Still hurt. I’m pretty sure that her list is a little longer, but I’ve also become an expert in focusing on just the important parts of her incessant (verbal, for now) attacks (similar to that cock). Let her puke it all out, dribbling and snapping, out of the system, out of the way. I’ve gotten used to being her sandbag, where she can blow of steam, so I can see if I can come to an agreement with her afterwards, something that benefits the one thing we have in common: Lily.
That might be just another thing I’ve become an expert in. Fathering. I still don’t feel like it, I guess no parent ever does, but according to those that surround me, I’m doing a mighty fine job. Something that every parent loves to hear, by the way. Especially when they’re trying very hard to do it right while constantly being hit with obstacles, like a stabby with-parent.
But back to Galen’s hypothetic BBQ. Yes, he’ll probably be annoyed by my questions before I even buy the ticket, and wish he’d never asked me. But that’s too late by then. He’s a man of his word, and honest, so he’ll suffer through the first phase, and then probably enjoy the rest of it. So, second question: If vegan food is considered an abomination (which I hope not, because I cook really good) is it okay to only drink beer and talk? Do you have real beer down there? Or is it that same tasteless alcoholized water that is exported from the US?
If either of the questions is a “yes”, I’m game. Wait. That was not a good way to formulate when being invited by a hunter. Oh. OH. OH DEAR. Vegan -> eats vegetables -> like a deer -> is game -> happy hunting!
He never invited me to the BBQ in the first place. He invited me for the BBQ. FOR. I’M THE BBQ.
Which is understandable, I’m freaking delicious. I recommend macerating my tasty flesh in a blend of ginger, soy sauce, garlic and a touch of balsamic vinegar. I’m quite steeled these days, so that hardcore muscle protein has to be broken down a little to get soft. That wouldn’t be very ethical, but would cross off one of the things on my achievement list – my death making headlines for some stupid reason. Initially it was for having a heart attack while having a spectacular orgasm during a foursome (always dream big!), but being eaten is not that bad an option.
I'll be waiting for that invitation.
What are your thoughts about this topic? Please feel free to engage in any original way, including dropping links to your posts on similar topics. I'm happy to read (and curate) any quality content that is not created by LLM/AI.
Post written for the #weekend-engagement by @galenkp inviting us to answer selected questions in the Weekend Experiences community each week.
This is my response to:
2/ Have you ever refused to do something that someone asked you to do but it went against your morals and ethics? Explain.
3/ Why have you not achieved what you originally set out to achieve in life? Explain.
4/ What are you an expert in (or think you are an expert in?) Explain.
6/ If I invited you to my house for a BBQ, would you come or not? Explain either way.
Thank you for reading!