Food of the Gods
by Georgepat
forum: Food of the Gods
speculative fiction for the internet generation.

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Food of the Gods


        My name is Johnson Hughes Wiggins III, and I am considered to be a connoisseur of fine foods. I have eaten the richest sauces and the most succulent dishes in most of the world’s finest restaurants, on every continent on earth except Antarctica. Because of my superior tastes, I have become an enormous man with my girth only exceeded by my IQ, which is quite extraordinary, I assure you.

        Being a world class connoisseur, I have determined over the years that I have very refined taste buds and now only the finest ingredients gathered from ports and markets worldwide are able to appease my appetite for rare and exquisite foods.

        Lately though, I’m finding that it takes much more to arouse my hearty appetite than even the best cooks in the world can supply. Ordinary food is losing its appeal to me and I have begun to experiment with other, perhaps different, ideas for sustenance.

        A feast! Yes, a feast is what is called for; a gathering of like minded connoisseurs, for us to be able to enjoy fine dinning together and where we will eat the food of the gods.

        I rang for my butler, James, and sent him on a quest to obtain the most perfect animal protein available, not too young and not too old, as this would become the centerpiece and ultimate focus of my table. Money was not to be a consideration. I closed my eyes as I settled back into my comfortable leather chair and fantasized how this feast might be.

        Candles placed precisely throughout the room; burning brightly, incense wafting in the air, and the aroma of delicious foodstuffs mingling together. Ahhh, it would be spectacular indeed and my fellow connoisseurs would fondly remember this feast for the duration of their lives.

        Invitations must be sent immediately, but who to invite? I pulled myself to an upright position and waddled over to my desk. Rolodex in hand, I began going through its entries; I wanted to select on the cream of the crop, the best of the best of like-minded individuals for this gastronomical soirée.

        Five names soon surfaced and I nodded my head in total satisfaction. Yes, these were to be my honored guests and rang for my secretary to have the invitations engraved and delivered by special courier, post haste.

        This task completed, I moved to my large French windows and threw them open, allowing the warm spring air to enter my somewhat oppressive room. My view of the countryside was spectacular but my eyes were immediately drawn to my stables. James was leading my newest purchase of animal protein; my piece de resistance for our magnificent feast, towards the wide opened doors to the cool stalls inside. A rope was tied around its neck and its legs were bound just loose enough to be able to walk without tripping. It resisted to a small degree, but continued towards its new domicile with no idea of its awaiting fate.

        I felt it my duty to inspect the recent purchase myself, as I sought no imperfect wares adorning my table lest it cause considerable harrumphing amongst my guests. James, having just returned from the stables, was only too kind to accompany and assist me with my examination.

        Entering the stables for the first time in many months, my sensitive nostrils revolted at the many malodorous vapors emanating from the stalls around me. I plucked my scented handkerchief from my breast pocket and placed it against my nose as we walked farther into the stables towards a heavy oaken door at the rear of the room.

        I stood aside as James unlocked and pulled the heavy door open and then stepped back and allowed me to enter. The light filtering through the small skylights showed crisscross patterns of dust floating through the air, forcing me to keep my handkerchief pressed tight to my face.

        James led me to the door of its stall and as I looked through the small, dingy window, I detected movement against the back wall. There it was, my future centerpiece, chained to the back wall with only enough slack to allow it to roam but a few feet in any direction. It sensed our presence and looked towards the window. The dim light in the stall made its eyes appear as dark circles and its other features were likewise difficult to see clearly. I could tell though that its body was plump and succulent. Its rear was well rounded with strong looking legs and its short reddish mane was in disarray and hanging loosely around its neck.

        I motioned for James to open the door to its stall, as I wanted to examine this exquisite creature much more closely. I walked towards it and was met by its quick lunge and the gnashing of its teeth, its claws slashing the air in front of my face. The chain stopped its approach well before it could reach me, however, and I was never in any real danger.

        I spoke to it in as soothing a voice as I could muster under the circumstances. Gentle murmurings, meaning nothing, but comforting just the same. Its wild-eyed appearance softened somewhat and I was able to discern that it was indeed a fine looking specimen of its species.

        I left the stables and slowly, painfully, my great weight finally taking its toll on my knees, made my way back to the comfort of my fine domicile. I eased my great bulk into my chair and rang for James to bring me a cool, refreshing drink as I once again drifted into fantasies of the feast to come.

* * *

        Feast day was fast approaching. My servants bustled about my residence, cleaning, sweeping, and scrubbing. Under my ever-watchful eye, mirrors were polished; the carpets were removed, taken outside, beaten clean and replaced. The floors fairly gleamed with new brilliance from the several fresh coats of wax that had been applied.

        The dining table had been especially refinished by the finest craftsmen in the village and four new leafs were ordered, made and installed to accommodate my honored guests. New scented candles were ordered and delivered, the exact placement of which, I oversaw with great satisfaction. The chandelier had been removed and polished until each faceted crystal sent miniature rainbows of refracted light swirling about the room.

        The most trusted of my groomsmen had been kept busy procuring foodstuffs for and making sure that all of my future centerpiece’s needs were attended to promptly and without regard to the expense. Its stall was thoroughly cleaned daily; a deep layer of fresh straw littered the floor and its bed constantly. I had insisted that fresh water be brought several times a day to refill its bowl; I wanted to have nothing happen to my investment, at least, not yet.

        I spent one entire day in the kitchen with my cooks, going endlessly over recipe after recipe, searching for just the right succulent combination, the most aromatic of herbs and spices to complement my main dish. I saw to it that the kitchen help understood completely that only the very freshest fruit and vegetables, from the largest and very best farms around the village, be procured. Nothing less than perfect would be accepted or tolerated.

        The young scullery lads slaved beside the hot, open hearth, sweat dripping off their flushed faces; scrubbing and polishing to a near mirror finish, the large, brass serving tray that would contain my completed centerpiece. Everywhere I looked, my servants were rushing about purposefully, ensuring that my feast would be the grandest, most gala event that my five honored guests had ever seen or attended.

* * *

        The feast day had finally arrived and I found myself scurrying as fast as a large, fat man can scurry, all around my residence; giving final checks and approvals to every minute detail that I must be positive is flawless. I had ordered James to assemble the staff, dressed in their finest serving clothes, for me to inspect prior to the arrival of my honored guests. I carefully looked at each and every member of my staff, checking for cleanliness of both body and clothes. Completely satisfied, I dismissed them with an admonition to pay very close attention to detail tonight, because their continued employment depended greatly upon it.

        I had James assist me with my bath, drawing the water and having it heated to the exact temperature I desired. I used my finest and most expensive soaps and body colognes to ensure that it would not be I which might offend any of my guests this evening.

        I dressed carefully, with utmost attention to every detail. My suit was hand made of pure silk from a small shop in Hong Kong. My shirt and tie were also made of silk and my shoes were handmade in Italy. James had seen to it that they had been spit shined to such a high gloss that your reflection could be seen.

        Downstairs once again in my study, I awaited the arrival of my honored guests. I heard the gravel crunch in the driveway and sent James to stand by the front door. Presently a loud knock sounded and James opened the door. I heard conversation and presently James walked to the entrance of the room and announced the first of my guests.

        “Mr. Percival Wallingsworth II, sir.”

        “Percy, it’s been too long, hasn’t it? It’s good to see you, my friend.” I said as I ambled over toward him with my arm outstretched.

        “Johnson, good to see you too. I want to thank you for your dinner invitation. I’ve been looking forward to tonight.”

        I heard knocking at the front door again and soon James entered the room followed by four other gentlemen.

        “Presenting Mr. Eduardo Machtus, Mr. Günter Rathgerber, Mr. Robert Quartermas and Mr. William Teague, sir.”

        “Gentlemen, it’s so good to see each and every one of you tonight,” I said as I shook each man's offered hand. “Would you care for a small libation before I tell you of the evening’s festivities?”

        Heads nodded all around and I had James fix each of my guests their preferred drink. When my guests had been served, I asked them to please take their seats at the table. I walked to the head of the table and sat down.

        “Gentlemen, tonight you shall be rendered speechless, and you simply will not believe what your eyes are seeing,” I told them. “We are going to have a feast unlike anything you have ever seen before. I selected you, my honored guests, above all my other contemporaries because of your, shall we say, unusual tastes; tastes that I believe mirror my own.”

        Each man looked me in the eye and nodded in agreement, with smiles breaking out on the faces of all present. Eduardo and Günter raised their glasses towards me and were soon followed by the remaining three. I bowed slightly and continued.

        “I have spared no expense tonight, as you shall soon see. Starting from the first course of a delicious soup and then continuing to the centerpiece of my feast. Gentlemen, I can assure you that when it is presented, I will guarantee that it will make your mouths water and your bellies full.”

        I picked up a small silver bell from the table in front of me and rang it three times. The door opened and six of my loveliest serving wenches entered carrying my finest china and solid silver flatware. They each took a position at the side of their assigned guest and carefully set each dinner placement on the table in front of them and then stepped back slightly.

        “Another round of drinks, gentlemen?” I asked, “You surely must be dry as the proverbial desert after your recent travels.

        “James, if you would be so kind as to refill my guest’s glasses with fresh libation and then inform the chefs that we anxiously await our dinner to be served.”

* * *

        With great fanfare and applause from my guests, the double doors burst open and a line of serving wenches entered, each carrying a tureen of hot, fresh portabella mushroom soup. More wenches entered and placed loaves of the freshest baked breads and sweetbreads around the table for my guests to avail themselves as needed.

        Next came platters of steaming vegetables. Carrots, brightly colored peppers, squash of every shape, color and kind, cabbage, and corn, still on the cob, adorned my table. My guests were kept occupied as they pointed out what they wished to have served to them.

        The moment that we had all been eagerly anticipating had finally arrived. The moment that would set this feast apart from all others, for all of time, had arrived. James entered the door and stood off to the side as my four chefs entered the room, bearing on their broad shoulders the large polished brass platter containing my centerpiece, my piece de résistance.

        I watched my guests’ faces carefully as they utterly and irrevocably comprehended the full extent of my epicurean brilliance.

        The chefs carefully placed the platter on the table in front of me and stood back, smiling. My guests, along with the serving wenches, looked on it utter amazement as James ceremonially stepped forward and with a grand flourish handed my very ornate and extremely sharp oriental carving implements to me.

        There, upon the platter, surrounded by a bed of edible grasses and fruit, trussed hand to foot, a baked apple held tightly in her mouth, was the creature from the stable. Stripped naked of her rags and thoroughly washed and cleaned, she had been transformed into a ravishing beauty. Her eyes, wide open and frantically glancing around the room, found no sympathy to her plight in the eyes of all that beheld her.

        I stood up from my comfortable chair at the head of my magnificent table and, grasping the razor sharp carving knife and the twin tined carving fork, smiled broadly to my honored guests, the saliva already dripping from my sharpened teeth.

        “Gentlemen, are you now ready to consume this superb culinary masterpiece that I have presented to you for your gastronomical delight?” I asked rhetorically. “Are you ready to join me in eating the food of the Gods?”




copyright 2006 Georgepat.