Organic Vegans Taste Better by Sean Hodgson
‘Good afternoon, I’m brother Simon.’
‘And I’m sister Amanda,’ said Amanda to passers-by in the shopping precinct. ‘We are here to share with you the life force that is Cannibalism!’
‘And we want you,’ continued Simon, proudly wearing his ‘Vegans are Good’ T-shirt.
‘Not to eat of course,’ said Amanda, proudly wearing her ‘Organic Vegans Taste Better’ T-shirt and waving her hands dismissively at three lads eating juicy beef burgers.
‘No, no, ugh,’ added Simon, sneering, ‘No!’
‘But to join us,’ beamed Amanda, ‘so you can feel the unifying life force that binds us all together. This is...,’ and she looked at Simon.
‘Modern Cannibalism,’ they said in unison with an enthusiastic friendly smile.
They attempted to hand out a few leaflets from their table to the seven or eight bemused looking shoppers, but their audience was a little reluctant to show any interest.
‘There's nothing to be afraid of,’ said Simon manoeuvring himself, sheep dog like, herding the curious gathering.
The shoppers moved away from him towards Amanda who was beckoning them.
‘It’s ok,’ Amanda said, ‘this is green, eco-friendly modern cannibalism.’ She paused, made eye contact with one of the burger-eating lads and nodded towards a young woman about to start a falafel and goat’s cheese wrap. ‘We only eat vegans.’
‘And the poor,’ added Simon in a throw way manner as he retook his place next to Amanda.
‘Vegans!’ Amanda elbowed Simon in the ribs, ‘because they’re healthy.’
‘Oh yes and preferably organic vegans.
‘Pesticide free,’ added a relieved Amanda.
‘And the poor, even if they aren’t vegans.’ He looked Amanda in the eyes and shrugged his shoulders, ‘But only at weekends, like after a few pints, you know, with a bit of chilli sauce and garlic mayonnaise, like kebabs and what not.’
Amanda ignored the growing attention from the crowd. ‘No! No! We never eat poor people even if they are vegans. Not under any circumstances. You don’t know where they’ve been.’
‘Well there are some circumstances,’ Simon responded dismissively. He was well aware of Amanda’s disapproving stance, but wasn’t completely sure if her objections were on ethical grounds or if she was simply a snob. Either way he was getting fed up being lectured too and got right into her face. ‘You know in Glasgow they’ve got quite a different attitude, very liberal.’
Amanda could draw on a whole variety of glares to accompany her unspoken ethically grounded disapproving stance and aimed them all at Simon.
Simon could feel those glares, yet again, but ignored them. ‘You know, stag weekends and all.’ To Simon it was incredulous that he had to explain this to her. He then turned to face their, now curious, audience. ‘But, anyway, back to our little group, we're looking to expand and find suitable...’
Amanda grabbed him by the shoulder and swivelled him round. The crowd, now numbering at least fifteen, probably weren’t aware of the different attitudes within the cannibal community and began to show more interest.
‘Don’t you turn away from me!’ Amanda graduated from her unspoken stance to a more audible version. ‘Have you been eating many poor people? You said you'd look after yourself after that nasty fungal toenail incident.’
‘Oh, we’re showing our true colours now aren’t we.’
‘No! What? And, Glasgow?’
Simon, after initially trying to placate Amanda, was now more concerned they might lose their audience and addressed them directly. ‘It’s fine. In Glasgow they deep fry everything, so it kills off all the bacteria and there’s a bounty on every poor person you eat. It’s a sort of public service up there, they welcome it.’
Amanda wasn’t having any of it. ‘You’re so old school. You’re like a throwback.’
‘Oh, here we go again. You’re such a spoilt little ‘Woke Champagne Cannibal’ with your fancy hippy dippy hipster ways. Well some of us like street food. I grew up eating it wrapped in newspaper and I turned out fine.’
Amanda held her hand to her mouth and feigned feeling sick. ‘You’re so barbaric.’ Her training at a drama school for the socially conscious kicked in. ‘You make me feel, so, unclean.’ She was well aware of how to milk an audience's sympathy and stormed off crying. ‘Call yourself a modern cannibal. You’ve got no taste.’
Simon looked at the now sizeable crowd. ‘That fungal toe-nail, it wasn’t infectious’. But the crowd began to dissipate. ‘Well you eat mushrooms don’t you and they’re a fungus.’ A few shook their heads as they left. Simon collected the leaflets and folded the display table while thinking things could have gone better. He walked away, disillusioned, muttering ‘Why do I bother?’
Written by Sean Hodgson
Sean Hodgson lives in Oxfordshire, with a garden that has three plastic pink pigeons because this is Faringdon, Oxfordshire. He used to be a police officer but since getting better he generally keeps quiet about that.