Made of Meat

This entry is part 4 of 16 in the series MicroFiction

Stefan slowly paced in the kitchen, waiting for Maria to get home from the store. He was starving. Starving! He knew that if she did not get home soon, he would begin to fade and waste away.

Another hour passed. Starving! he even said it aloud to the cat, in case the cat was wondering about the pacing. “Starving!”

The cat just looked away.

Stefan decided that he might want to stop talking and pacing. He was wasting valuable, precious energy with his movement. He didn’t know if he could make it.

He didn’t know if he could make it.


The cat tasted filthy, but nourishing. Maria’s parrot, while not as meaty as expected, was delicious. When the mailman came with the bills, magazines and a box of mail order pears, Stefan lunged.

Thin slices of the mailman, a second helping actually, sizzled in the frying pan. The aroma of bacon wafted through the door as Maria opened it.

“My god, Stefan,” she whispered in shock. “What have you done?”

“Look,” he shouted, hoping that he was sounding rational. “You left three hours ago for the groceries. Three hours! I Was starving. Starving! And it occurred to me, that this is all just meat. The cat, the bird, the mail man… All just meat!”

“But… but Stefan,” she said as she slowly backed towards the door. “You’re a vegetarian!”

This is not a true story. Yet. Give it time!


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