Vegetarian (part 1)

Christopher Hirst, a first year student at the University of Z, was dissatisfied with his life. He’d been out to the pub with his flatmates and when he returned, he felt depressed by the drinking, the mindless chatting, all that boyish larking about and immature behaviour. He felt sorry that he hadn’t done something more worthwhile with his evening, something purer such as studying, reading a book, watching an intelligent film or going out for a run. Really, he craved something higher, something purer, yet he’d wasted away the evening so coarsely.

He was glad to be back in his own room and be alone. Free from his flatmates he felt better. However as he watched TV he became increasingly wound up.

He channel hopped through late night TV programmes: shows on celebrities, about wannabe celebrities, about plastic surgery, pornography, shows about pornography, the news. All of it annoyed him, it was so impure and he felt rage toward the world.

Yet what made his blood boil the most was the following scene: a male celebrity was challenged to consume a pair of kangaroo testicles; and making a face and grimacing, and being egged on by excited morons, he accomplished the task, to the loud cheers and guffawing of fools. The celebrity himself was in a demented state, as if he was paralysed by the pure hilarity of the action.

Chris was incensed.

‘What absolute bastards! What scum. All of them, men and women both, sat around in stitches, giggling like vile little monkeys as a man eats a kangaroo testicle. Motherfucker! The poor kangaroo. It’s one thing to eat it, it’s true; but to do so in such a sacrilegious manner, laughing and hooting like an idiot; to eat a Kangaroo’s testicle, its organ of reproduction, something so vital, significant and symbolic as that; and to eat it solely for a laugh, for a joke, and not because you’re hungry, but simply because it’s such an outrageous, profane act, and because you’ve got nothing better to do with your stupid lives; and then to do it all on TV, and tell the world over that nothing is sacred, there is no God, and that this sort of behaviour is perfectly normal – ugh! You really disgust me!’

He brooded and became maddened. Bastards! How dare people behave like this, they were soulless vermin. He wanted to get revenge on them, he was so angry, and he imagined chopping their heads off and eating them whilst laughing cynically and seeing how they liked it.

Eventually however he calmed down. In his heart of hearts he knew he himself was impure, he was dissatisfied with his own life. And then he had an idea, a way of dealing with these awful people, these soulless morons, that was like balm to his soul: he would become a vegetarian. It was a pure act of the self: others could do as they pleased, he couldn’t prevent them and it was silly to get flustered about them. However he himself could make a stand and live according to good tenets. And though if you had have asked him an hour ago about doing this, he would have felt it didn’t achieve justice on those profane idiots, now he considered it the perfect antidote: it was a powerless act against those who had stirred his heart, yet he felt so, so empowered by it, this solace, and he felt as if he was rising above.

And though it might be a bit extreme, he was determined to go the whole hog, to be fully purified, a vegetarian. No animal would lose its life, not to him at least. He didn’t have a philosophy, he couldn’t explain the rights and wrongs of the issue, that was a minefield of confusion. What he did know was that he would be a vegetarian. Pure and simple.

And so from the next day onwards he didn’t eat meat, consuming instead a lot of vegetables, salads, jacket potatoes, kidney beans and lentil soups. In addition his whole life became more purified, he studied harder, went out jogging some evenings, he didn’t go to the pub so frequently, and by and large he felt fresher, purer and more content.

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Two weeks went by. Chris was in the kitchen preparing a meal. Behind him, sat down at the table after finishing his dinner, was Gary, a mature student at twenty-six.

‘Chris, are you a vegetarian?’ he said. ‘I thought you must have become one’ said Gary. ‘I kept on seeing you drinking soups and chopping vegetables, that I thought you must have gone veggy. What made you?’

Chris explained a little. Eventually he sat down with his meal opposite to Gary.

‘No’ pursued Gary, ‘it’s always something I’ve thought about, becoming a vegetarian I mean. But I could just never do it. How could I live without bacon sandwiches, chicken curries, kebabs or a Maccy dees? No, it would be impossible. Still, I’ve always admired vegetarians, for doing what they do, I guess it’s difficult, but it must be satisfying at least.’

‘Well, to be honest I’ve never been that keen on meat anyway. When I think back to the countless meals I’ve eaten, which I didn’t really enjoy, tasteless fish, dry chicken, tough steaks, meals I simply ate up like a robot without thinking of the poor creatures that lost their lives for it, meals I didn’t appreciate with half the contents going in the bin anyway – when I thought of all this, I decided I must give vegetarianism a go. And frankly it seems healthier, all these lovely, pure foods, fresh salads, crunchy carrots, delicious red kidney beans, fresh peppers, cabbage soup, honestly it’s all so delicious if you just make the effort too appreciate finer things, to let your taste buds acquire more refined desires, to open up your mind and palette I guess.’

‘Well good on you. You see, I don’t know whether you know, but I come from a farming background, my father and brothers are all farmers, so I’ve been used to seeing animals slaughtered from an early age. It’s so depressing when you first see it. To see a living, everyday animal killed, its warm blood rushing out, its intestines spewing all over the place, and then gradually watching on, as its body parts are reduced down to the meats we know and love in our supermarkets. I mean people don’t really make the connection between say a living chicken and the chicken breast you buy in the shops. Yet see the process step by step as one is reduced so easily into the other, see how the two parts relate, what the significance of a cold, smooth piece of chicken breast is, and well, it’s soul crushing.

‘Anyway, I was accustomed to all of this at an early age, and to be honest farming is not my thing, and hopefully I’ll be doing something else with my life. But if there’s one thing that still saddens me it’s the notion of lambs to the slaughter. Now anyone will tell you what fools sheep are. They’re pains in the neck, they never do as they’re told, they’re mistrustful, annoying and very stupid. Lambs however are another kettle of fish. They’re so sprightly and alive, so curious, sensitive and intelligent. They’re an absolute joy. Back at the farm they would line up, ten of them in a row and have little races! Really I’m not kidding! They’re delightful little creatures. So imagine how difficult it is to slaughter them. And yet that’s what we do. And why? Why not kill the docile adults? Because lambs meat is more tender. Young flesh is more tender. What a sad and depressing fact of life. And yet it’s true. Every time I have roast lamb or a Donna kebab, beautiful, delicious stuff, I have to admit how sad yet true it is.’

They were thoughtful a while. Then Chris spoke.

‘No, it’s a sad, sad thing to have to come to terms with. I guess man is unlucky due to his oversized brain. One day humans must have come to the realisation that the delicious meat they were eating, derived from some furry, fluffy, cute little animal, and there and then the human soul was doomed to utter misery. Because once you realise that animals can be reduced down to meat, you understand that we too are nothing but a pound of flesh, a future tray of chops and steaks in someone else’s kitchen.’

‘No it’s all very depressing indeed’ resumed Gary. ‘But think on this. In two hundred years time say, technology will have so advanced that one way or another we’ll be able to replicate meats. It will simply be case of pressing a button and you’ll be able to beam down chicken Kievs from out of thin air. We’ll be able to replicate meats so perfectly that no animals need be killed. And what then? Will this mean that from then on, man will have achieved a greater state of decency, that, with the invention of this technology, man can now pat himself on the back and say that he’s a decent, humane being. Not really. All it will do for us, is to set out loud and clear for us, exactly what it was we suspected when it first dawned on man that there’s something suspect in eating animals: and that is that humans are nothing more than meat, a lump of chemicals that sustains themselves by consuming other lumps of chemicals however they are synthesised. No it’s only the more depressing. It will prove we’re nothing but flesh.’

‘But you know’ continued Chris after a while, ‘all of this, depressing as it may be, can be coped with. What saddens me is the sacrilegious nature of human beings. So okay we have to accept, humans will probably have to eat meat to survive. But why do they have to go to town on it, to be so irreverent? I think the native Americans had it right, when every time they slew a deer or buffalo or other quarry, they whispered, just as it was breathing its last, a little prayer in its ear, to thank it for its sacrifice.’

‘No, I know exactly what you mean, there are plenty of thoughtless people out there, whether it’s the gourmet chef bleating on about the wonders of fois grois or some heartless sod getting off on a bull fight. There were two chaps I went to school with – fools if ever I knew them – who worked in a butcher’s shop for their work experience. They were so joyous at being able to see and touch the hanging bodies of dead pigs, cows, and sheep and what have you, and came back with hilarious tales of how they’d stolen a pig’s eyeball, put it in a match box and sent it to a friend. All it does is highlight what apes humans are. There are plenty of folk out there, you could barbecue their mothers and put it on a plate, and provided it tasted good they wouldn’t be too put out. I’ve heard women talk with a passion about how delectable monkeys brains are, I’ve even heard stories of people eating unborn babies –fucking bastards! – the flesh is so tender you see……’

At this point another student entered the kitchen.

‘Swot knot!’ he shouted playfully at Chris in his laddish way. Steve, nicknamed Bomber, always addressed Chris as ‘swot knot’. He was a coarse student, not academic, and he studied construction management. Though not overweight, he had a bulky frame, was well built and robust, and appeared in rude health. He had fleshy face and body: he was fairly sexy. The seven students that lived in this university flat all got along reasonably well, like adults, except there was a bit of mischief between Chris and Bomber. They were at the two ends of the spectrum, friends by dint of the fact that they were friends with those in between them, and, simply because they had found themselves sharing accommodation. Chris was slim and academically minded, sensitive and intelligent. Bomber was bulky, intellectually vacant and flying through life on automatic pilot.

There was a genuine feeling of camaraderie amongst the boys, they got along, though Bomber teased Chris ever so slightly. It wasn’t heavy, as it may have been were they still school boys, yet all the same, there was a slight tension between them and an undercurrent to Bomber’s jesting. Whenever he saw Chris he shouted ‘swot-knot’ and jested and japed. Chris thought it a feeble nickname, but kept his mouth shut and just ignored it.

By the by Bomber sat down with his dinner. Chris and Gary were still chatting. Much to Chris’s chagrin, Gary, simply as a conversation starter, told Bomber that he was a vegetarian.

‘What? You’re not a fag are you? Ugh! I could never do that, eating all that gay-boy salad, all those carrots – Christ, it’s rabbit food. No, I need my steaks. A man needs his meat,’ and Bomber started listing, in his innocent, thoughtless way, all the foods – hamburgers, hotdogs and so on – that it was impossible to live without. Chris got up and did his washing up.

‘Have you ever had bull’s balls?’ continued Bomber addressing Gary. ‘Oh they’re absolutely gorgeous. One of the nicest things I’ve ever eaten. Perfecto! I had them in a barbecue sauce. Or bears meat! God, that is lovely. I had it once in America. Beautiful, honestly it was so succulent and juicy, washed back with a couple of cans of cold beer. Delicious!’

‘I don’t know why you have to go on about it like that’ said Chris intimidated. ‘If you’re going to eat meat that’s one thing, but the way you go on about it, degrading the animals, you’re so irreverent – huh!’

‘Swot-knot me old son, what’s your problem? Man is meant to eat meat. It says so in the bible doesn’t it, and you’re a bible basher aren’t you? It’s as natural as belching or taking a dump. You’ve got to learn to love your grub. You could do with putting on some pounds as well. You need to beefen up. You should eat some steaks. You look like a fairy.’ At this point Bomber involuntarily belched, innocently apologised for it, and after his lovely meal started patting his belly satisfactorily.

‘Anyway do as you please’ said Chris, ‘but just leave me alone. If I want to be a vegetarian, then let me get on with it. Some of us desire to be more than mere animals, we crave something purer in life.’ And with these simple words he exited the kitchen.

Meanwhile Bomber, utterly nonplussed by Chris’s words, had stood up and extracted a packet of frozen sheep escallops from the freezer.

‘Look’ he said to Gary ‘you can see the ears’ and removing two frozen escallops, and placing them next to his ears, he made a silly, sheepish face and said ‘Baa! Baa!’ Gary broke out into laughter.