To Whom It May Concern,
Learning my lesson has never been my thing. “Make mistakes once and learn from them” has never been a rule I followed. I knew what it would lead to before I even began, but for whatever reason, I wasn’t able to stop myself. You know when you just get so interested in something and, no matter how harmful, you can’t keep yourself away? Yeah, this is kind of like that.
Okay, I recognize how confusing that may have been. No context; no indication what “it” is. Allow me to rewind a few decades.
I was in my senior year of high school, trying to come up with topics for my argument paper. As I ran through possible topics, my brain wandered to the movie I was watching the night before. The silence of the Lambs, featuring everyone’s favorite cannibal, Hannibal Lecter. That movie is way more interesting than this stupid paper. I wish I could just combine the two or someth-
So that’s what I decided I’d do. How about a paper weighing the benefits and drawbacks of cannibalism. That was sure to be an exciting read. Nodding with the resolution, I wrote down my argumentative topic:
Is cannibalism really that bad?
Of course, doing a research paper led to research beyond a movie series. Looking at benefits without any research, the main one I could think of was “morals.” My reasoning was, of course, a human can consent to be eaten post-mortem. Or even to be killed to be eaten. Animals can’t say, “yeah you can totally kill and eat me, man.” Animals don’t want that. If they do, we wouldn’t know because, despite all the human languages on this blue planet, "animal" is not one anybody can learn. Except, of course, Doctor Dolittle.
A drawback off the top of my head was definitely “illegal.” I mean killing someone, consuming their flesh, and ending up with life in prison? Exhausting.
I kept researching and stumbled upon one of the most compelling arguments against cannibals I’ve seen to this very day. The argument lies in an extremely rare disease called Kuru. It affects a small group of people from New Guinea who ate the human brain as a funeral ritual and is caused by prions, infectious proteins, in contaminated brain tissue. My solution was to add, into my paper, not to eat the brain, and my argument was that cannibalism isn’t actually that bad.
I got an A+.
Jumping forward a few years, and skipping a lot of life-changing moments, I killed someone. The woman insulted my cooking, and I relished the kill.
I had her with hot pepper relish.
Once I'd had a taste of the forbidden fruit, it was all I could think about. I continued to kill and eat for years, never touching the brain, until curiosity got the better of me, as is truly inevitable with all human endeavors. Of course, if I were going to do something so excessively risky, it’d have to be worth it. I prepared a feast-for-one, worthy of a true monarch, with the brain of Alec Abernathy, the smartest person on my side of the country.
It was the most delicious meal I’d ever had, but I wasn’t sure if it was my cooking that made it so exceptional, or the dish itself. I decided to try another brain, instead of making it the way I normally made my other meals. Simple, yet delicious. But that time it had so much more than what was usually present. The brain is filled with memories, feelings, hormones, making it, in my opinion, the most delicious part of a human, and I went down the rabbit hole.
It’s been fifteen years since that day, and I guess some brain I ate was contaminated because I’m writing this from my death bed. It was a good few decades, I got away with a lot. Though this letter lacks many specific details, it is a confession of sorts. This way, I receive no punishment beyond the punishment of my own mortality.
Even as I take my final breaths, I regret nothing.
Kind Regards,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Malefactor