Thursday, December 12, 2013

Veggies, Innards, and Love

Finish That Thought #23 (Judge's Comments)
Prompt: This, to me, represents love.  
Special Challenge: Include a phobia of an object. Concepts, emotions don't count

“This, to me, represents love,” Lawrence said with a hurt tone. He set down his rifle in defeat and implored me with teary blue eyes that usually got what they wanted. But not this time! My foot was down and I had no intention of budging it.

I swear, I don’t know what had gotten into the man. Two years of perfectly ordinary marriage, and then he became a health nut. First he had wanted me to grow a garden “for the benefit of our health.” I readily complied. Even I was tired of the wilted greens available in the local grocery. Then came making bread and pasta from scratch because “we have no idea what effect those preservatives have on our bodies.” That one had taken a little more persuading, but a couple research papers eventually did the trick. Just last month he started hunting for our meat, and today, he was asking the inconceivable.

“Well it doesn’t represent love to me!” I exclaimed, careful to keep my eyes averted from the hulking carcass draped across the front porch. “I will NOT help you dress that…that… thing!”

His lower lip protruded in a heart-melting pout, "But-"

“No buts!” I cut in quickly, steeling myself against his experienced offense. I couldn’t even stuff a turkey without passing out, let alone deal with all that gristly tissue and fur. It was terrifying! I felt my face blanch and little black dots crowded my vision.

“Just the thought of…” I reached out a hand to steady myself against the kitchen counter as the black dots grew bigger and the ocean crashed against my ear drums. I waited until the feeling passed and tried again.

“Just the thought of…” Nope, I was going to faint. Heat rushed over my body as I broke into a cold sweat and my stomach tied itself up in knots.
The last thing I remember was Lawrence’s look of alarm as he reached out to try to catch me, gun clattering to the floor roughly the same time I did.

One good thing did come out of that concussion, though. My meat now comes to me pre-cleaned, pre-cut, and pre-packaged in brown paper.