Wednesday, 15 October 2008


I used to get nervous, wondering if they would suddenly bolt, but as the years passed I got to know which ones needed restraining. I dressed them and tended them each and every one. The little darlings had no idea, and that's how it had to be. You see, like veal, children's meat doesn't taste nearly as good to my master if it's been panicked. Sometimes, one panics so much that I have to stew it instead. Which is unfortunate, because they go ever so peacefully with the powders. I think the hot water of the stew hurts them. They only get louder. I did think they were singing at first, but a kitchen hand told me otherwise. I think I'd rather not have known. It does distress me somewhat.

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