Film — Live-Action
"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!"
—Uglúk the Uruk-hai
upon chopping off the head of a rebellious orc, solving the issue of fresh meat and a threat to the Hobbit cargo at the same time, The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
[She holds up a miniature femur. It has been scraped clean by a knife.]
They say eleven million people died that winter, and that's just in North America. That doesn't count the other places: Greenland, Iceland, Scandinavia. I don't want to think about Siberia, all those refugees from southern China, the ones from Japan who'd never been outside a city, and all those poor people from India. That was the first Gray Winter
, when the filth in the sky started changing the weather
. They say a part of that filth, I don't know how much, was ash from human remains.
The last vision was terrible
. Zak saw the survivors, starved into madness, turning on a corpse
. He and Galt and the other Children could clearly see how horrified the parents were by their own acts. What they had done was a last, desperate attempt to save their children. It was the act of beings so hungry they had lost their minds. As the parents fed their starving children, they cried.
The Children had relished the thought of eating human flesh because they remembered it from their childhood. But this vision had shown them how desperate their parents had been, and how horrible their final act really was
Wendy had a true claustrophobe's terror of the elevator. She envisioned the three of them trapped in it between floors while the winter storms raged outside
, she could see them growing thinner and weaker, starving to death. Or perhaps dining on each other, the way those rugby players had. He remembered a bumper sticker he had seen in Boulder, rugby players eat their own dead
. He could think of others. You are what you eat.
Or menu items. Welcome to the Overlook Dining Room, Pride of the Rockies. Eat in Splendor at the Roof of the World. Human Haunch Broiled Over Matches La Specalitie de la Maison.
As a Naval officer, I abhor the implication that the Royal Navy is a haven for cannibalism! It is now known that we have the problem relatively under control, and it is the RAF who now suffer the largest number of casualties in this area. What do you think the Argylles ate in Aden? Arabs?!
Captain B.J. Smethwick, in a white wine sauce, with shallots, mushrooms and garlic.
I'll have a cut of Johnson's leg, please.
Sitting around the campfire
Scraping the shit off your shoe
You're wondering what is for dinner
You've a horrible feeling it's you...
Hunger unwound what little hope was left and moved us to what humanity would not once have contemplated.
Hours became days. The snack machine ran out of food by day three. They were reduced to drinking water out of the backed-up toilets by day seven. On day twelve, Andre Gates,
Axes And Arcana developer, died when he choked to death on a twenty-sided die.
Lycanthrope developer and Black Spiral kinfolk Evan Stump pulled out "an old family recipe." Ten days later, Evan had the building to himself.note
Somebody has been cutting meat off Shoji's body. I didn't see who it was and I don't want to know. I am so hungry right now - I can't blame them for being hungry too.
For days we steamed north-west - not west - into the empty dark. Our supplies ran out, and still no sign of port. Hunger set in, and terror, and what I pray was madness
. Ravening, desperate, raving, we agreed to draw lots, with the loser giving up life and flesh so the others could go on
. The first of us to draw the short straw was the captain. The second was my brother
. My dear, solemn, solid Richard. There were more after. Seven times we drew. Seven of our number went into the pot, and not a one of them quietly. Those of us who made it back to port swore never to speak of our crime, but one of us - someone with a keener conscience than mine - confessed. I fled the noose to zee again. I regret it all. I will do anything. Please.
"For I was hungry, and I ate you. I was thirsty, and I drank you." What happened in there? Your memory is patchy. The cutlery. The difficulty with the tablecloth. That business with the mouse. If only it had moved faster. If only the sous-chef had been more co-operative.
Wartime survivors (customers who lived) always followed the Geneva Convention (acted very polite to each other), because anytime one of them violated it (was rude), they were summarily executed (shot at the instant they were rude), and shipped off in a body bag, assuming that much of the casualty of war (deceased ex-customer) was left; combatants didn't always have rations (bag lunches), so they often engaged in foraging for food ("Donner Parties,") a practice better left undescribed.
Hot dog costumes! Huey:
I'm sorry, what? Webby:
You know, in case we get lost at sea and one of us— probably Louie— goes mad with hunger, we'll put these on! Louie hates
hot dogs, so he probably won't eat us. Huey:
Are you saying Louie would rather eat us
than hot dogs? Louie:
hate hot dogs.
I liked Harris. He might have been better done, perhaps, but I am free to say that no man ever agreed with me better than Harris, or afforded me so large a degree of satisfaction.
"The number of incidents of the use of human flesh in cooking decreased this month to 56."