Thanksgiving
Whenever I sit down to eat some animal meat (and by "whenever", I mean to say, "this just occurred to me today as a really good idea") I find that it lessons the guilty blow (and by "guilty", I mean to say, "not-at-all-guilty") of eating a creature's flesh, by considering him (or her) to have been my arch-nemesis. When phrased this way, it's almost as if the creature (henceforth referred to as "Señor Turkey") had it coming. His body lying in front of me, I begin to smirk, "Well it appears as though we meet for one last time, Señor Turkey." Following this I let out a little cackle. I know he's beat, he knows he's beat, hell, even San Pedro, the deaf gardener, knows that Señor Turkey is beat (and San Pedro's been in Africa for the past several months). It's been a long, deadly dance the two of us have played, and I alone have emerged victor. I shall enjoy this meal, for I have earned it.