What the hell you look at me for? Close your damned eyes! So, you are bleeding, what am I suppose to do now? Turn away your accusing eyes! I only chopped your leg off, not your head…I need it for my soup! My witch soup. Tasty soup. Magic soup. Stop this weeping, I promise I will heal you with that soup, a new leg will grow on you once you taste my witch soup. My lovely soup, your white leg floating around with a wild squirrel. Leg-squirrel-witch soup. I´ll serve it well. With onions and cream. You´ll feel much better once I feed you my leg soup. I should pour some of it in a can and then close the can and sell it on market-place. One good healing soup, ladies and gentlemen! Perhaps I should take a waterproof marker-you know how it rains all the time- and write “Warhol´s Soup” on it, so it could sell better. “Campbell soup can. Witch-squirrel-leg”. Just in case, I should require myself a bullet-proof can, in case someone feels like shooting Warhol again. My soup is hot. It´s one damn hot soup. Almost as hot as you were. Now you only have one leg, you crippled invalid. Even your leg was not good enough, it´s still not soft. The meat is stuck to the bone like some rubber. And yet I stirred and boiled it so long… I don´t understand. I should take that leg out and throw it to the dogs. You hear ´em barking? Yes, of course you do. Or maybe you want that bone? No? I thought so. Oh, be nice now, I was just kidding, I´ll take it away. Now, there. Be a good girl. Come here and have a taste. Oh, right, how can you walk… I forgot. I come to you. Open your mouth. Wider! Swallow! Don´t you dare think about spitting it out! Don´t you know how expensive this soup is? Have you any idea how much it is worth? Of course you don´t. Did it taste good? Do you feel anything already? Any sign of a new leg? Why you gag like that? Stop it at once! You better not be throwing up in my kettle. What did you do now, little bitch? Why your eyes like this? Look at me! Look at me bloody hell! Look what you have done with my room. Look at all this mess! I hate you! I hate you! Yes, you! And I´ve always hated soup.
“Doctor, we are waiting for you in the operating room!” I heard it. I had heard it the first time, What do they think I am deaf? I pulled my rubber gloves on properly, prepared my mind, I stepped into the operating room. There was a man laying on the table. A rather fat man. Look at all this fat. He was like blown up balloon on the table. Some of his body reached over the edges. Too much lipids, too much oil, all this margarine in front of us. He looked towards me, grabbed my arm, and said: “Doctor, I trust my life in your hands!” Yeah, right… I nodded. “And God´s.” he added. Sure thing. I put a mask over this whole, that had took so many burgers in. “Now breathe. Count slowly backwards from ten to…” Oh, he is sleeping already. There we go, scalpel in, nothing complicated. We attacked his stomach, cut away all this fat and skin, the symbol of his greed. I felt the need to sallow quite many times, seeing all this meat in a bowl. Sewing him back together, I could tell how unpleasant a look it would make. Only that he had looked unpleasant before as well, so there can´t sure be much difference. I finished my job there and went for a coffee. He had no family to look after him and it was easier for me. I just could not stand these announcements: yes, everything went well, or I am so sorry (by this time they cry already), he or she didn´t make it. I wrapped up my belongings, got myself ready to go home, only one thing was to be done yet. I went to the waist section and observed what was there. I saw a foot, threw it in a bag, took some fat as well. They were fresh, all from todays. I took off quietly, visited a market place on my way, bought some carrots and paprika, then went home. I arrived quite late. He had fallen asleep on the couch already, waiting for me. Poor darling. He woke up, when he heard me close the door. I put my bag on the table, and he kissed me on the cheek before checking up all I had brought home. He saw the carrots first. “Another vegetarian dinner?” he asked. I put the other bag on the table. His eyes widened. I could tell he already imagined the taste of what he will cook tonight. I went for a bath and left him messing around with this travesty. After the bath, I dressed up in my best dress, he loved it so, and I shouted: “Is it ready yet?!” “Not yet! Just a minute!” he replied. I turned the pages of a magazine, while waiting. I did not have any patience to read actually. Finally he called for me. I went into the dining room. Sweet smells were in the air. I swallowed hungrily and sat at the table. He helped me with the chair. How polite was my husband. I loved him to death. “To my loving cook!” I said, toasting with wine. “To my loving wife!” he said. Then he served me delicious dinner, which I imagine would have been hard to resist even by this fat man who had provided for us today with his expensive operation.
I looked at this lovely meat on the plate, surrounded by this lovely sauce of steaming fat sauce and potatoes swimming around in it with carrots. I was so very hungry indeed.
Bio: Rozann Petra lives in Estonia and studies English language and literature at The University of Tartu. She loves music, drawing and kinky movies. A local science fiction magazine Reaktor published her story in December, 2014.