My Dad was a rich businessman, he owned his own restaurant called 'The Cannibal Cuisine'. Yes, I know the name doesn't really sound all that appealing, but the food there was to die for.
I had always admired my father, he worked hard and he never stopped. However, I found it very odd that he never spoke of his childhood and every time I would question him, he'd just brush it off or change the topic of conversation. I just couldn't understand why such a successful businessman would never want to talk about his upbringing, especially with his own son, that was until a week ago when he was lying on his death bed.
My father looked at me straight in my eyes and I could almost feel the excitement that he was feeling.
'Son, there’s something you need to know and I don't think you're going to like what you hear'.
I looked at my father with a confused expression plastered across my smooth baby like face, he had just told me that I wasn’t going to like what I was going to hear, yet his eyes were filled with excitement. I was now intrigued, more than I ever had been.
I took a deep breath and spoke “well I guess I should settle down for a long story then”.
My father smiled as I took a chair from the hallway just outside his ward and I placed it next to his bed, I took my father’s hand and he began.
" Picture this, a teenager, aged fifteen, curled up in a ball in the corner of his attic, waiting in fear every day for his father to get back home from the pub, only to be beaten till he was black and blue then sent to bed as though nothing had happened. Well I had just that kind of upbringing. My mother died when I was only 10 years old and my father struggled to cope with the responsibilities that came along with being a single father. I don't blame him, I don't blame him at all - I was a very troublesome child and I didn't make things any easier for him. I’d stay out late into the night with my friends, we’d drink alcohol in our local park, I smoked and stole things from the corner shop. So, due to all this my father turned to alcohol to get him through the masses amount of pain he was feeling, but alcohol only made him violent and he started to take out his anger on me.
What would you do if you were me? Would you just deal with it because you were 15? Or would you, with a wide grin, slowly push a knife through your father’s beating heart as he slept, and watch as the life was slowly drained away from his seemingly innocent face?
What could possibly drive me, an innocent 15-year-old to do such a thing, especially to my own father? The agonising wait to indulge in my Curiosity, that's what. My mum had always said I had unique taste buds, and boy, she was right. I remembered the intense satisfaction I felt as my father’s body fell limp and he lay there lifeless.
I slowly pulled the knife out of his lifeless body and watched as the warm, thick blood came gushing out of him, covering his brand new white bedsheets. I was expecting a putrid smell to come from him but instead there was just a sting, metallic smell coming from the blood."
My father paused as I started to heave at the thought of him ever doing that to anyone. From what I knew of him he was always busy, but he didn't seem like he could do something like that. He never showed any emotion, his face was just always expressionless. Something was telling me that he enjoyed killing his own father but I wasn’t going to ask questions, not yet.
There was no escaping this story now however, I was intrigued, I wanted to know what kind of a monster my father was.
I grabbed a paper bag from underneath my dad’s hospital bed just as a safety precaution in case I got sick, then allowed him to continue with his story.
" It was coming up to 9:00PM and I was getting hungry for the sweet taste of karma in the form of my father’s flesh. So carefully, I dragged the lifeless body down to the basement entrance and threw him down the long, twisting, never ending staircase.
I then started to clean up any evidence of the murder. I began with his blood-stained sheets and clearing up the trail of blood he had left behind. I gathered up the bed sheets and brought them out into the garden to burn them. Then I grabbed a cloth from the kitchen and got to work, scrubbing the wooden floors until they were completely clean- I must say, I did a fantastic job of it! - I didn't worry about cleaning the stairs to the basement as no one knew we had one, and anyone who did come and try to find my father well, they could join him.
Next up, I had to clean the knife that I had murdered my father with. I clenched the handle and carefully took it to the kitchen to rinse. I turned on the tap and ran the blade under the hot water, watching as my father’s blood turned the water bright red and slowly trickled off the knife. Once I had finished, I dried the knife and placed it back in the cutlery drawer as though nothing had happened.
It was now 11:30PM and it was time to start preparing my dinner. I grabbed a hatchet from the kitchen, then proceeded down the long, twisted, bloody stairway to the cold, dark basement where my dad’s lifeless body awaited me. As I stood over him, a sudden feeling of guilt and dread washed over me but those feelings soon subsided as I decided where my first cut into human flesh would be. My decision was to start with his face. My father- believe it or not- cared a lot about his appearance and his face was the most important thing to him, so this would be the perfect place to start. I plunged my knife into his soft, delicate cheek and started to cut myself a nice substantial chunk of flesh. I held it in my hand like a trophy and started to drool as I thought about how good it would taste when it was cooked. I stared at it in awe as the beautiful aroma of raw meat began to fill my nostrils.
Trying to contain my excitement, I headed up to the kitchen to cook this sweet bit of meat. I grabbed a frying pan and poured some oil into it. As I waited for the oil to heat up, I decided to bag up the rest of my father’s body and put it into the freezer. When I had finished cutting every bit of meat from my father all that was left were his bones. They were to be ground up and used as a fertiliser for my plants, I care a lot about the environment and my father’s bones would be a great contribution as food for the plants.
I started to prepare my bit of flesh for cooking. I sliced the layer of skin off and cut the chunk of red, juicy meat into smaller, thin slices and threw them into the pan along with some onions and peppers. Surprisingly the meat didn't take long to cook and it was ready to eat within a half hour. The smell of the freshly cooked flesh was just bliss.
I was very excited to try my new creation, very excited indeed. I walked through my kitchen to the dining room where I set my plate down on the table. I stared at my beautiful creation for a while before taking a seat and beginning to make my first cut into the tender, succulent meat. Slowly, I raised the meat to my lips and started to chew. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, if there was a way to describe heaven, this would be it. The flavour of the meat itself was just incredible but as the flavours of the onions and peppers came in, things only got better, my taste buds were sent into overdrive and I devoured every bit of my dinner until there was nothing, not even the slightest crumb left on my plate. This was the best way to celebrate my 16th birthday.
Satisfied in the fact that I had just eaten twice my body weight in amazing food, I washed my plate and went to bed.
The next morning, I awoke to the sweet sound of silence, I felt no remorse for what I had done the night before no remorse at all. Groggily, I started to lift myself out of bed. I threw on my Arsenal kit and headed downstairs to make a full English breakfast. I sat down in front of my telly and began eating, the meat didn’t taste as good as my father, but I was saving that meat for something good, and just as I was about to turn my telly off, an advert for a new cooking competition came on.
The competition was called 'The perfect meal' and would be broadcasted across the world. Six contestants would take it in turns to present a dish that they had created within a set amount of time to two famous chefs, the chefs would then taste the meals and decide who would be crowned the winner. The winner would get to open their own restaurant and they'd win £5 million to spend however they wanted. This was too good of an opportunity to miss and this competition wouldn't be happening again, ever. So, I took my chances and applied for it.
Luck was really on my side that day, as the age restriction was for people who were aged 16 or over. I filled out my details and received an email saying that they would get back to me within the next 24 hours if I had won a spot on the competition. I didn't sleep that night, I waited up all day and all night, staring at my inbox for another email to come through confirming my spot on this once in a lifetime opportunity.
It was at around 7:45AM and an email finally came through, the email contained all the details that I would need to know to prepare myself for this amazing opportunity. The email specifically said that we needed to bring our own ingredients as none would be provided for us, that was no problem for me. I had everything I needed, the vegetables and the flesh, all that was left to do was buy one special ingredient to season the flesh and that was ghost chilli powder. This would make my creation taste ten times better.
The day of the competition came around, and believe it or not I was very nervous. I was the youngest contestant on the show and I was going to have to impress my two favourite chefs, Gino D'acampo and Gordon Ramsay. I didn't want to screw this up, I knew that everything had to be perfect for me to win.
As soon as the cameras started rolling, all my nerves subsided and I was determined to make history with my beautiful creation. We had 1 hour and 45 minutes to cook and prepare our meals, I only needed 45mins so this gave me a full hour to work on the presentation.
It was time to present our meals to the judges. I was the last contestant to be judged. The judges signalled for me to come over so quickly, I sprinkled some ghost chilli powder over my 'pork' and made my way up to the table where the judges stood.
They both looked at each other and smiled. 'What have we got in front of us young man' Gordon asked in awe of my beautiful presentation. 'Well' I took a deep breath and began 'you have seasoned pork with crispy roast potatoes, fried onions and fried peppers'. 'What a very odd combination, I'm intrigued' Gino smiled. They both dived in with their knives and forks, making sure to get a bit of everything onto their tiny forks.
Gino was the first to feedback, he turned to face me and cried 'This has got to be the most beautiful dish I have ever tasted, the potatoes are crispy and full of flavour, and that pork, that pork is like nothing I have ever tasted before it's beautiful. You have done an amazing job, well done'
Gordon, surprisingly smiled and nodded in agreement with Gino 'yes, the meat itself is full of flavour, and just when you think the meal can't get any better, the flavours from the peppers and the onion come through along with the spice from the ghost chilli, this is a truly beautiful dish and you should be very proud of yourself'
I went to re-join the other contestants whilst we waited for the winner to be announced. As I took my seat, all the contestants were congratulating me on my dish and the comments that the judges had gave me. I smiled and thanked everyone, for once in my life I felt like people cared about my feelings, I felt, well I felt.... loved. I had never really experienced this feeling before, but it felt good.
It was time for the judges to announce their winner. One by one a contestant would be sent out of the room, the last person in the room would be the winner. There were 2 of us left in the room, myself and a woman in her early twenties, my heart started pounding as the suspense was building up.
'And the winner is...CAIRO' Gino shouted with grave excitement. I couldn't believe it, I had won the competition and I was the youngest contestant there. I turned to face the woman who was making her way over to the doors, she turned around to smile at me one last time and I smiled back. The judges handed me a cheque for £5 million and stood beside me for a photograph.
'So, Cairo, what's the secret? What did u do to make that pork taste so good and what is going to be the name of your new restaurant?' Gordon asked. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat and said, 'well Gordon, a good chef never tells his secrets' both judges laughed 'and as far as the name of my restaurant goes... well I've decided to call it 'The Cannibal Cuisine'.
'Why such a sinister name?' Gino urged captivated by my creative choice of name. 'Well' I began ' I have always been a fan of horror and I love the idea of being unique, I mean it's not like you come across a cannibal cuisine every day, right?' We all laughed and I prepared myself for the opening day of my restaurant.
That day came quicker than I thought it would but I was excited. I put on my chef’s outfit and drove to the restaurant nice and early so that I could get myself familiar with this beautiful building. I noticed two things immediately that would be great assets to me. A large, sound proof basement and a large freezer.
Although these two things would be great assets to me, I couldn't help but wonder why they had made my basement soundproof. Did they know? Were they trying to help me commit these sinister deeds? I don't know, but one thing’s for sure, I was very happy, these would make my job much easier to perform.
Now I know you're probably wondering what I did with my £5 million aren't you? Well, I hired a hitman named Jacob to work alongside me. He was surprisingly cheap for a hitman, but I wasn't complaining. He was the main reason my restaurant was successful.
We worked together for all these years, he'd do the killing and I'd do the chopping, people would always tell us what an effective team we were and how they never wanted us to close down because the food was absolutely amazing"
My father looked up and I could see his facial expression was that of a happy old man. "So, this is my legacy to you, will you do me a favour and keep the business alive?"
My Father laughed maniacally at his own pun and I knew he hadn't made this story up. I was now faced with the toughest decision of my life; do I carry on my father’s business or not?