Let’s Have Dinner
To the gorgeous guy I saw stumbling home from the pub last night: you are the handsomest, sexiest human I’ve ever seen. I love your broad shoulders, your beefy biceps, the extremely chewable nape of your neck and especially the scent of your brain. Oh, that brain. Nothing’s more attractive than a man’s brain, and yours smells better than the most tender cut of veal (but more brain-y). I want to gently lift this beautiful oyster from its carefully opened skull-shell, tearing off small, delicate morsels to dip into your rich cranial sauces. Be assured I’ll savour every bite with the reverence the Japanese have for bluefin or witches have for boiled children.
Why, I won’t even have to chew — your buttery cerebellum will melt over the shredded ruin of my decayed tongue.
I don’t know if you’re single, gorgeous, and to be honest I don’t care. Meet me under the Albert St. bridge any night this month — I’ll be the voluptuous, shambling shape with passion in her dried, grey eyes and bits of skin between her teeth.
Don’t resist, my love — we are meant to be together. I simply must have you inside me. /Anonymous And Ravenous
YOUR HEART BELONGS TO ME Queen City Confidential is an open forum to anonymously lure reckless humans to horrible deaths and complain about the werewolves that keep burying you in holes they’ve dug. E-mail confidential@prairiedogmag.com (type CONFIDENTIAL in the subject field). Change the names and identifying wounds. Submissions must be 100-200 words.