《Why is Red the Colour of Love, Sex, and Murder?》Father Once Told Me...
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They both lived in Seattle when they were younger, but my father moved away with his family and they lost contact for a while.
They were connected by an invisible string that worked to draw them back together once again, or at least that’s why my father says.
The next time they saw saw each other was in an orgy twelve years later when they realized they were fucking the same person.
They shook hands, asked about each others parents, and inquired about how things were at home.
Just small talk.
After their reunion, they were inseparable. They found out that the whole time they’d actually been attending the same university in Vancouver. Later, the two of them ended up getting a place together to save up on costs. During this time, they’d share everything about themselves… including their fantasies:
My father about eating people and the now butcher, then student, about murder.
The perfect friendship, one could say.
One kills, the other rids of the evidence by consumption.
When my father had to leave Vancouver to attend the law program in McGill for his graduate, his friend was very displeased.
The night of my father’s flight, his friend impulsively murdered a girl who went to the same philosophy class as them, out of anguish. He called my father and begged him not to leave, so my father met him one last time.
He saw his friend covered in the girls blood sitting on my fathers bed. The girl laying by his feet.
My father never told me what happened after, but I recall a look of sweet nostalgia on his face.
When my father left for his flight, he told his friend to butcher her and store her parts in the basement freezer, making sure to put it under the other food items, and ensuring that the pieces of the girl were so perfectly cut, so as to make it almost indistinguishable from normal meat.
Once my father settled into his new apartment in Montreal, he took a quick trip back to Vancouver, got there by noon, had dinner with his friend by six, and left the same night.
That was the first time my father ate another human.
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