A Cannibal of Impeccable Tastes

by Thomas B. White

The waiter made a grim joke. “If you desire the Catch of The Day, you are talking to him.”

When he leaves here tonight he will be stalked by a former customer, who heroically wants to cleanse humanity’s estate of servitude. For this generous patron all men are naturally kings. Thus this waiter lacks self-respect, a mere valet to men’s appetites, an unseemly food stain on the purity and sacred nobility of man, a grand feast for a cannibal of impeccable tastes; he thinks the fallibility of human flesh can be perfected by an excellent wine sauce, that there is no human weakness or failing that is not improved by fine cuisine’s elegant touch and a caring gourmet’s gnashing teeth.

But the issue is nothing as crude as the consuming of flesh. Rather it is communing with the soul of the devoured waiter via his body, transforming hired help’s humble condition into ennoblement and pride of place on a five-star menu.