Who ate the meat? - by Laseeee

I knew I was special from the beginning.Not to brag, but when Mama bought me from the market, she held me up to the sky and said, “This one is correct.”The other pieces of meat were thrown into a nylon bag without ceremony. Me? I was inspected.I was wide.I had weight.I had destiny. Even the pot confirmed it.“You will be the last one to go,” the stew whispered as it swallowed me whole. “The big pieces always are.”I floated proudly in a sea of tomatoes, pepper, and spices while the others cooked around me.Then, one after the other, my brothers and sisters disappeared.A spoon would enter.A scream.Then silence. “Where are they going?” I asked curiously.“Plates,” the stew replied.“Don’t worry, you will be safe,” said the pot. I relaxed.Plates meant purpose… right?Maybe a child would fight for me, or someone would save me for the last bite of rice. Maybe Papa would chew thoughtfully and declare, “This meat is sweet.”Nothing mattered because I knew I was prepared for greatness. Then the kitchen door opened.Ah. The housemaid.I know her. Everyone in the pot knew her. She was the one who tasted things.A little salt here.A little pepper there.A little fish there. She was a woman of… adjustments.She lifted the pot lid, releasing the stew’s delicious perfume into the kitchen.I saw her eyes land on me. No.Not me. She looked around.Nobody.The kitchen was empty.She picked up the spoon.A ripple of fear moved through the stew as the spoon came closer. It nudged me, then left.I exhaled. She was only stirring. Then the spoon returned. This time it slid underneath me.The other pieces of meat stared. “Brother…” one whispered.“I don’t think this is a plate.” I began to panic.The spoon lifted me out of the stew.The kitchen suddenly looked enormous.I dangled in the air, dripping red into her palms. The housemaid blew on me.SHE BLEW ON ME!! As if I was some roadside moi moi.Eww. Then she ate me. No prayer.No rice.No ceremony. Just one swift movement. Darkness. I expected death to be peaceful.Instead, I found myself in a strange place where all the stolen proteins go. There was fish.Goat meat.chicken partsTwo ponmo.And four boiled eggs. “Welcome,” said the chicken.“What is this place?” I asked.“The After Pot,” they replied in unison. I sat down, horrified. “My family will be looking for me.”The fish laughed. “They always do.” As if on cue, a voice echoed from the living world.“Mama, there are three pieces of meat in this stew o. Which one should I take?” Silence.Then: “Three ke? I put four.”Ah.The investigation had begun.Footsteps.A spoon scraping the pot. Then Mama’s voice again.“Who ate the meat I left for Papa?”The housemaid answered immediately.“I don’t know, ma.” Liar.Absolute liar. There was a long pause.Then the smallest child in the house spoke.“I know it wasn’t me. I was sleeping.” Another voice. “It wasn’t me either.”More silence.Then Mama said the words every stolen meat dreams of hearing. “Nobody will eat meat in this house until I know who ate that meat.”The After Pot erupted in cheers.Justice.At last. Then came the final blow.The housemaid said softly:“Maybe one of the cats entered.”The entire After Pot gasped. The audacity. The fish nearly fainted.“There are no cats in that compound,” I shouted. Too late.Back in the world of the living, nobody spoke. Then Mama sighed. “everybody should come and eat, but no meat for anybody.” What?No trial?No confession? The chicken put a wing on my shoulder.“You get used to it.”“But she ate me.”“Yes.”“And she lied.”“Yes.” “And she blamed an imaginary cat.”“That one is actually very common.”I looked toward the heavens. I had dreamed of being the last piece of meat on a plate.Instead, I became a family mystery. A legend. Somewhere in that house, even years from now, someone will still say:“Do you remember that day one meat disappeared from the stew?”

Other insights from Laseeee

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons