The Itamai

I don’t like my job. There’s a box in front of me. I know what’s inside, for there was a muffled groan when it was dropped onto my table. That groan was slightly high pitch, so I knew there would be a hobbit inside. As I stare at the box, I remind myself it’s either do or get killed in a really painful way. It’s not an easy decision though it’s an inevitable one. So…

I take the bound and flopping hobbit out of the box and slap it onto the board. Holding it down with one hand, I grab the knife and place the tip at the top of its throat. I hesitate as it keeps gulping air and exhaling with wide open eyes. Thinking it’s trying to tell me something, I pull down the gag.

“The Ents are coming... they’ll tear this place apart. You’ll be free. Don’t do this… you’re making a mistake!”

They always plead, but this one also has a warning…the Ents? Never heard of them.

With reluctant force I push the knife in, the sound of pierced skin ends the beat of its body pounding the board. I pull the knife down its chest, cutting through the rope, to the groin, open the body wide with my hands, pull out its guts, and rinse the cavity.

Carving it into thin slices, I finger them on top of rice, and serve the orcs and ogres. At least, I’ve taught them to eat slowly and savor the taste.

As I’ve said many a time, I don’t like my job, but its not a perfect world.