I get asked sometimes if I ever miss life before a cruelty-free diet.

Yes. There are days I long for murder meals. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t.

But, you may also know about my love for brain hacking – even for food time.

brainhacking

So, sometimes when I miss my cruelty diet, I try the following:

I start by walking into my kitchen with an air of terror about me. Rigid – with a heartless, icy gaze. Then, I’ll slowly sneak up on the fruit bowl in the quiet manner of a preying leopard. I can hear them shuddering already. Can you? I reach out, slowly, to soak up the energy of their nervous shifting – and laugh inwardly to myself.

As if that will help.

As if they can go anywhere.

Then, in one swift motion, the banana’s bloodcurldling lament echoes through my apartment complex. There are sobs and tearfully tireless raspy calling out after whichever one I’ve plucked from their family. This goes on for some time, as I retreat to the other room to enjoy my coffee first. Today, an organic Dole will lose her daughter. But for now, she knows the child’s still alive – albeit within view of my hungry stomach, as she quietly calls out to the mother she cannot see. This desperation pleases me.

Then, comes the calm before the storm.

For a moment, the world stops. No bird song. No wind blowing.

Just stillness.

And then… my kitchen captives can hear their kin’s skin being slowly peeled away… while she’s still alive. In a split second, her relatives – who’ve passed out from the earlier traumatic stress – reawaken to hear from atop my fridge that now familiar but distant sound of excruciating screeching. They join in – a vicarious emotional pain that is music to my ears. I am a god conducting a symphony with the mere gnashing of my teeth. Eventually, the pain becomes too much for her to even scream anymore. In paralytic terror, her throat bucks outward and she reflexively gulps at a few final panicked gasps – drowning on her own blood as I finish devouring her nude body at my desktop.

It’s over. It always goes too quickly.

That’s why I keep her hide to quilt into a Cavendish cape for later.

buffalobill

But I try my hardest to make it last.

Plus funds only allow for me to acquire new victims once a week. Thus their entire lives become an agonizing wait during which they’re taunted by fruit flies while they wonder whether they’ll go quickly – in full form – or more brutally: blended along with a few of their cousins – or have spices poured onto them as they’re slowly mashed with a dull spoon into a fruity cinnamon puree. All while the others watch and rock back and forth with the dazed gaze of someone who’s seen the depths of man’s dark abyss.

So yeah. There are workarounds for people acclimating to a cruelty-free diet.

But it’s like my guru taught me that one time when I was Julia Roberts in India.

“It must come from within.”

veganlecter
(Scarier plot twist: the corn was grown by Monsanto)

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