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Of course, I'm not vegan - so I replaced

  • Of course, I'm not vegan - so I replaced the water with
  • meaty juices from the roast lamb I cooked over a spit in my backyard last night. I thickened it with flour, and added herbs & red wine. Then I invited my carnivorous friends over
  • for dinner. "Yeah," I explained as they all sat around around gnawing on its delectable flesh. "This is the only way I could keep it from following me to school."
  • They all looked up from their grisly bloody bone gnawing meals. Rags of flesh were jammed into their murderous gums. Puss oozed down their lips. Did I say something wrong?
  • "No, Abby, 'twas perfection," said the teacher. We were reading aloud from "The Jungle 2: Lunch Break," Upton Sinclair's descent into blood lust. I read on: "Gamy, fetid strips of
  • raw backstrap hung around the lean-to, maggots worming their way across the sinew. A knife drew slowly acro" "Cough... um, sorry ... is this Econ 100?" The teacher screamed "Get ou
  • t! I know your type. You're all ooh Keynes, ooh Marx. But you know what I want? I want to get to know you as living, breathing beings. All squishy & mixed up & adorable." The stude
  • nts sighed inwardly & rolled their eyes. He was one of those, was he? The type that wanted to be friends with his students? OK, they'd play along. They laughed at his jokes, preten
  • ded to think he was the funniest professor they'd ever seen. Then, when the professor turned his back to them to write on the board, the students all pulled out branding irons and
  • played a wholesome game of branding tag. Several ambulances were called to treat the third degree burns of the students. The professor just laughed throughout the entire event.

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