Chuck Roast sat on the edge of his cot with his feet firmly planted flat on the concrete floor. He consciously forced himself not to move. He was trying very hard not to wrinkle his navy slacks or to cause them to lose their crisp creases because he feared being punished.
He was sitting bolt erect, too, because he did not want to wrinkle his white, long-sleeved, button-down, Oxford cloth dress shirt or cause it to lose its crisp creases. He also took great care not to wrinkle his tasteful and tasty, red and blue striped, silk necktie.
He knew that he had to look perfect.
He feared that he would be punished if he caused his clothes to lose any of their sharp creases or if he even wrinkled any of his clothing, and he did not want to be punished, he did not want to face the stern, demanding, unforgiving displeasure of the cruel women waiting for him, so he remained motionless except for his muscular chest heaving up and down as he breathed rapidly, his breathing rapid and shallow because he was afraid. Very afraid. He did not know how the women would punish him, but he was sure that they would punish him harshly because they had warned him to keep his clothes perfect when they locked him in his cell.
He was thinking hard, thinking fast, thinking of where he was, of how he got here, of where he was going, and of what might happen to him, so he sat there in rigid, panicked silence because he knew if the women were going to do something to him that it would not be good or pleasant. No, they would make it very bad and very unpleasant, perhaps hurtful, perhaps harmful, perhaps painful, perhaps worse, and he dreaded punishment and pain. Or worse.
Then he heard the rapid high-heeled click of the women's footsteps in the hall approaching the door of his cell, and he tensed because he was even more afraid. They were coming for him, and he was afraid of what was going to happen next, of what would happen to him, of what they were going to do to him. And then he heard the key in the lock of the door, and he tensed even more in anticipation, fear, and dread.
Six women, also dressed in white, long-sleeved, button-down, Oxford cloth dress shirts, and wearing long navy skirts swiftly and silently entered his cell. Some of them were wearing neckties.
“Stand up, slave!” their leader ordered.
“What ... What . . . What’s ...?” he stammered.
“What’s going to happen to you? You’re going to be hanged!” she commanded in a loud, intimidating, dominating voice, the kind of woman’s voice that no man would ever or could ever ignore, the kind of command that no man would ever or could ever even think of refusing.
He felt weak, he felt as if he might faint, and his stomach sank. Terrified, feeling dominated, feeling intimidated, feeling powerless, feeling helpless, feeling unable to escape, he stammered, “Hang … Hang ... Hanged? You’re going to hang me?”
“Put your hands behind your back, slave! Yes, you’re going to be hanged! And we are going to hang you! And after we have hanged you by neck until you are dead—or at least close to it—we’re going to prepare you, cook you, and eat you! We are your Hangwomen & Cooks! You must obey us, slave! There is no escape! And we are going to enjoy every minute of your humiliation, your dread, your fear, your terror, and your execution! We greatly enjoy executing men! And your time is now, slave! You are going to be hanged!
“We are also going to greatly enjoy preparing you, slave, for you must be prepared very carefully so that you will cook well and taste good when you are eaten! We will most especially enjoy eating you, slave, and when we do, we will enjoy every delicious forkful of man-meat we slice from you and eat! Right now, we are salivating just imaging how good you are going to taste, how special, how satisfying, how yummy, how stomach-filling you will be, slave!
“We are killer cannibals, and at this very moment, we are growing more and more vengeful, more and more eager to kill, more and more ravenous! Our anticipation is driving us delirious with insatiable desire, ever and ever more anxious to hang you, slave, so that we can prepare you, cook you, and eat you! So now we are going to hang you, slave! That sounds so good! Hang you! Hang you! Hang you! Hang you! Hang you! That sounds oh so very, very good! I’ll say it again! HANG YOU! WE ARE YOUR HANGWOMEN & COOKS, AND WE'RE GOING TO HANG YOU, SLAVE!
“Pinion his arms behind his back and tie his wrists together!” she ordered the other women They swiftly and efficiently complied, doing their jobs well, accustomed as they were to preparing a man to be hanged. Then with their hands firmly clamped on his arms and shoulders, they surrounded him to guard and escort him, and to prevent him from resisting, struggling, and fighting.
“Come with us, slave!”
The hanging detail having formed, the Hangwomen & Cooks forcefully escorted Chuck Roast under duress to the gallows to be hanged. As they approached it, from a distance he could see the gallows and the noose suspended from the crossbeam above the trapdoors. He was deathly afraid, because he knew that he was going to die, that he was headed for the menu. He knew that he was going to be hanged, prepared, cooked, and eaten.
“Please don’t hang me!” he pleaded. “Please don’t hang me! Please, please, please don’t hang me!”
The Hangwomen & Cooks ignored his cries and smiled with pleasure, satisfaction, and anticipation because they knew by his response, by his panicked pleading, that their domination of him was total, that he was under their command, that he was under their complete and merciless control, that they could force him to do anything they wanted, that they could do anything they wanted with him or to him to him, and that he would comply. And what they wanted right now was to hang him, prepare him, cook him, and eat him. And they knew that they would. And they knew that only by hanging him, preparing him, cooking him, and eating him would their ever more and more insatiable desire finally be sated. They salivated, they licked their lips, their stomachs growled, and they became even more ravenous, more anxious to hang him so that they could prepare him, cook him, and eat him. And they knew that they would, for they were killer cannibals. And they were about to prove it.
And he knew it, too. He tried to recoil, but the Hangwomen & Cooks were firmly in command and control of him with their hands on his shoulders and his arms, with their hands grabbing him and forcing him onward, with two of them grabbing his belt and one of them grabbing his neck tie and dragging him forward. He could feel their touch through the smooth roughness of his shirt. He liked that feeling, liked that they were touching him, but he knew that it would not last long. He wondered if it would feel good to be hanged. He wondered whether it would feel good to them to hang him.
The Hangwomen & Cooks forced him on toward the gallows. He whimpered. He was full of fear. And his whimpering and his fear rewarded and excited the Hangwomen & Cooks, made them even more anxious and made them hurry even more because they knew that they would very soon hang him, prepare him, cook him, and eat him, and they also knew from experience that his fear and struggling would make him taste much, much better when they ate him.
“Silence, slave! The victim shall remain silent, or we will make your hanging and your death long and painful! If you do not remain silent, we might decide that we will only half-hang you and then cook you while you are still alive! We would love that, love hearing you moan and scream, love watching you squirm and try to resist the heat of the oven as your man-meat cooks to a delicious doneness. But we are sure that you would not enjoy that! We want to be both merciless and merciful, so if you don’t want to suffer that horrifying, painful, ignoble fate, then BE SILENT, SLAVE!”
It was a command that he was powerless to ignore.
When the hanging detail arrived at the foot of the stairs of the gallows, two of the Hangwomen & Cooks mounted the stairs first to make sure that everything was in working order for the hanging of Chuck Roast and to make penultimate preparations for hanging him. When they were ready, they called down to the four Hangwomen & Cooks still guarding Chuck Roast on the ground beside the gallows and indicated that all was in good working order, that all was prepared, that they were ready to hang him, and that the Hangwomen & Cooks on the ground should swiftly and forcefully escort him up the stairs to the platform of the gallows to be hanged because the rope and the noose were as eager to hang him as they were.
When they reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the platform, together all six of the Hangwomen & Cooks swiftly and forcibly moved Chuck Roast onto the trapdoors beneath the noose that was eagerly waiting to hang him, to snap his neck, to make him ready for cooking. The Chief Hangwoman & Cook smoothed and straightened the collar of his hanging shirt. Then she smoothed and straightened his hanging necktie. Then she tightened his hanging necktie to the point of choking him, almost to the point of "hanging" him without having to hang him.
The Chief Hangwoman & Cook placed the noose over his head, moved it down around his neck, and tightened it loosely. Then she repositioned it so that the hangman’s knot was beneath the left angle of his jaw in the sub-aural position, which is the traditional position for the hangman's knot to ensure a swift, solid, silent, successful hanging. Then she tightened it more snugly around his neck to the point that he could feel the stiff, harsh rope, the unrelenting and ultimately fatal noose through the rough-smooth surface of the inside of the collar of his hanging shirt. She tightened the noose so snugly that he choked even more, choked as he would soon most surely choke when he was hanged. She jerked sharply on the rope twice to test the noose, and to give Chuck Roast a small taste of the much, much, much, much stronger jerk that he would fatally feel when he was hanged and he reached the bottom of his drop.
Again, he cried, “Please don’t hang me! Please don’t hang me! Please, please, please don’t hang me!”
Again, the Chief Hangwoman & Cook demanded, “Silence, slave! This hanging will be dignified! This is a legal execution! Your hanging will proceed! Nothing that you can say or do will change the outcome, will change your fate! You are going to be hanged, cooked, prepared, and eaten no matter what! There is no other possible outcome! There is no escape! So be silent, slave! Stop crying! Straighten up! Be courageous! Be noble! Be brave! Be a man and face your execution, your hanging, like a man, for you are surely the man that we are going to execute, are going to hang! And after we have hanged you, we are going to prepare you, cook you, and eat you! Face your execution with honor and dignity, for you are surely going to hang, slave, you are surely going to die! If you do not remain silent, we will make both your hanging and your death long and painful! So be silent and contemplate your fate, slave, as we contemplate our dinner!”
As the Chief Hangwoman & Cook noosed Chuck Roast while he stood there on the gallows choking on the noose and his hanging necktie underneath it, the five other Hangwomen & Cooks bound him with stiff, strong rope to make it impossible for him to struggle and resist. They bound his arms around his chest, bound his thighs together, and bound his ankles together. He was and powerless and unable to move, completely under the command and control of the Hangwomen & Cooks. And now they had finished preparing Chuck Roast for being hanged, and they were going to hang him.
The Chief Hangwoman & Cook read the order of execution, speaking these words: “Chuck Roast, you have been indicted, tried, and found guilty! The penalty is death! You are sentenced to be hanged by the neck until you are dead! When you are dead—or nearly dead—you are further sentenced to be prepared, and cooked, and eaten! If you have any last words before we hang you, you may speak briefly!”
Still stunned and terrified by all that had been happening around him and to him, Chuck Roast's lips moved, but he could not say anything. He was unable to move, totally dominated and controlled by the Hangwomen & Cooks. He was silent. He had no voice. The terror he felt, the fear and horror of being hanged stole his voice from his throat just as the noose would very soon break his neck and steal the life from his very muscular, very cookable body.
The Chief Hangwoman & Cook said, “Since you have nothing to say before you are hanged, we will proceed with your hanging! Farewell, Chuck Roast! May you hang well, cook well, and be delicious!”
The Chief Hangwoman & Cook pulled the lever that controlled the trapdoors and hanged Chuck Roast. He plummeted through the open trapdoors. He reached the end of his rope, and that abruptly halted his haltered fall. The noose fatally tightened even more snugly one last time around his neck, which snapped like a dry twig. He dangled from the noose, and he swung like a pendulum from the end of the rope because he had been hanged. He felt no more, he feared no more, he pleaded no more, for he was dead. And he was ready to be cooked.
After Chuck Roast had been hanged, the Hangwomen & Cooks tolled the bell on the gallows the traditional 13 times to officially proclaim and announce his hanging. They posted the notice of his execution, his hanging, to make it public information as required by the traditions of hanging, as required by the laws of the Hangwomen & Cooks.
The Hangwomen & Cooks then prepared him in his roasting pan according to their special recipe for man-meat with with salt, pepper, with a little lemon juice, and with herbs and spices chosen just for him to best enhance the flavor of his man-meat.
Then the Hangwomen shoved an apple in his mouth, added olive oil and melted butter to the roasting pan, and shoved the pan into their large brick oven built specially for cooking men. They cooked him at the rate of 10 minutes per pound to make sure that the thick slabs of his man-meat were done all the way through, cooked to an especially tender, tasty, juicy doneness. They checked on him many times as he roasted. Each time they checked, they basted him to make him more flavorful, more tender, and more juicy. And each time they looked upon his cooking body, they moaned with pleasure as they thought of how tasty he would be.
When Chuck Roast was done, the Hangwomen & Cooks removed the roasting pan from the oven. They sliced the cooked man-meat off him and placed it on the special plates that they always used for displaying, serving, and eating man-meat as tradition required. They used special silverware, too, real silver, for they wanted no steel to taint his flavor. They carefully arranged his man-meat on the plates to bring out the beauty of the man-meat and of the plates themselves. They were both exquisite.
The Hangwomen & Cooks took their time as they ate him so that they could savor and enjoy his man-meat, the aroma, the texture, the flavor.
He was delicious.
After the Hangwomen & Cooks stripped all the man-meat off him and after they saved the left-over man-meat, they cut off his head, stuffed and preserved it, and mounted it on the wall of their dining room as a trophy.
The Hangwomen & Cooks cremated his remains, placed his ashes in an urn, and displayed it on a shelf beneath a picture of him hanging from the gallows on which he had been hanged. Next to the picture, they also mounted on the wall the actual noose with which he had been hanged.
The Hangwomen & Cooks engraved a brass plaque with his name, his date of birth, the date of his hanging, the date of his being cooked, and the date of his being eaten, and they mounted the plaque on the wall above with his urn so that they would honor him, remember him, and especially remember how delicious he was, for although they were cruel, ravenous killer cannibals, they were also sentimental about the men that they hanged, and prepared, and cooked, and ate; about the fear, the terror, they caused in the men they hanged, cooked, and ate; and about the absolute domination, command, and control they had over their victims.
And Chuck Roast had been their latest victim.
And he had been delicious.
