Submitted by WoollerMan2003 t3_z8b3a6 in WritingPrompts
thelobear t1_iybm5vf wrote
When I had turned that bastard into a steaming bowl of Campbell’s chicken and stars, they called me insane. No one cared about why I had done it. They were too hung up on the fact that I had eaten him. “It’s just soup,” I reminded them. After all, it was.
I won’t bother you with the details. Just know that he wanted to be inside me, so I gave him exactly that.
Now, after ten long years of holding me…now, they need me. I’ve had an easy enough time in prison and, later, the institution, I’ll admit. Nobody wants to become a steaming bowl of bisque or chowder. I get it. But what I can’t forgive so easily is that no one saw my side until now. Now that they need me, they’re ready to lift my sentence, but can they clear my name? Call me a murderer, a cannibal even, but don’t ever call me crazy.
So here I stand, in this wide, open field under the stars, surrounded by my “handlers”. The massive meteor grows closer by the second, and things are getting about as hot as hotpot, right now, but I’m perfectly calm. The ceramic bowl feels warm in my hands.
I look up at the blazing sky, debating.
lilacpeaches t1_iybt6wz wrote
Ooh, this is well-written! I love the subtle nods / allusions to why the protagonist soupified the bastard. Plus, the protagonist’s thought process feels real.
thelobear t1_iyc217g wrote
Thanks! I was going to have it end with them turning themself into soup as a real “fuck you” to the world, but decided to leave it open-ended.
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