My friend Jotun eats meat. His life is a lie. Only twelve other people know that Jotun is not really a vegetarian. Jotun uses his facade of being a vegetarian to keep himself in a socialist social services sector job. He makes over a hundred k a year. There is a fat bloated pension, more weeks of vacation per year coming up, and casual sex with the cougar progressives. He eats beans and rice at work, gobbles broccoli at evening seminars, and they never know he eats meat. He has a secret life: he is a meat eater.

Jotun works in the socialist social services sector, as I said. Being politically correct, in this case, being a vegetarian, keeps him in his job. I cannot go into details. The low opinion that Jotun has of his socialist co-workers would be considered libel. But I will tell his story as best I can, with the few words I am issued in this racist shithole of a country that does not have free speech.

We meet in the secret kitchen that Jotun has constructed in one of his rental properties. Of course, Jotun has accumulated properties through his non-ability socialist social services sector job. There is one in London where he built a secret kitchen. It is in the basement. The flat has a steampunk theme. This is guile: Jotun plans to tell any accidental visitor that this is the work of some fictional tenant. Ha ha! In the freezer, he keeps his meat. There are pork chops, steaks, and top end chicken nuggets. He thaws and marinates on the lower tier of the fridge. Above that he keeps vegetables, herbs, and cheeses. Being among the vegetarians has made me a good cook, boasts Jotun. Could you say the same for your secret life? Has it made you rich and well fed?

Jotun sat underneath a velvet paint by numbers of Telly Savalas when we started on the three species meat feast. Jotun told me how he only buys meat at night, after the sun has set. The serious vegans never buy food after dark, apparently. It is a secret belief that they have. Vegans are a cult, Jotun said, which is why I voted for Rob Ford. So Jotun takes advantage of this, and dons disguise and drives twenty or thirty miles to an all night supermarket to buy meat. Even though he has just turned 50, Jotun will disguise himself as a Goth on his night excursions to buy meat, to cook meat, and to eat meat. He still does eat a small salad with his blood dripping steak. A nice coleslaw with his pork chops; and decent heart stoppers for a fried potato entry with the greasy fried chicken. Does that mean he is not all bad, as far as his treachery towards the vegetarians?

Many vegetarians have taken up non Christian religions. Where Jotun works, they worship Garnishee, a diety in the same heaven as Kali, whom Jotun worships. You get a lot of spiritual value when you offer your meals up to a pagan god that suits your temperment and needs, says Jotun. Kali is the god for people who pretend to be vegetarians, regardless of whether they think it through, or it is brought to their attention. Both paths lead to the same place: the secret kitchen of Jotun, where he gathered with Fenris Badwulf, to eat meat offered up to pagan gods, to recall the past, to discuss the present, and to plot. We drank beer, sampled porn, and ate too, too much.

At other times, Jotun summons prostitutes to entertain him. So, his Goth sofa, it smells of dog. He favorite whore, Suckula, the Goth whore with a taste for amphetamines, and a practical appreciation for what a studded glove can do to a business rival or delinquent customer, had a dog, a large one, who liked to sleep, even when his hair was wet from being outside (and Suckula, when she smoked, she did it outside, with the dog, so the dog stank of cigarette smoke in the most foul way) would sleep on the sofa whilst Suckula and Jotun made merry in one of the three differential Goth themed bedrooms (Steampunk, Cyber, and Thelema). The rest of the place was, as I said, done in Goth, as a deception measure in case Jotuns secret meat eating was discovered by misadventure.

Is Jotun a ‘bad’ person? He lies to them, every day. They trust him to, say, lock up the filing cabinet at the end of the day, to not press all the buttons in the elevator, to not wipe his ass on the tea towels. They listen to his lies, every day. Yes, it is true that the bean dal was tasty; but to have it accompany a bloody haunch of meat, torn from some poor animal, on its voyage into his carnivorous digestive tract, was not the intent, the mens rea of the act. The yogurt dip was put on strips of bar-b-que fried chicken breast. Yes, he did make it, and eat it. The meat part is just left out. Every day, these lies. They pour out of his mouth. If Jotun was a smith, he would be a farrier.

Jotun lives with secrecy so much that he now has a secret business: he rents out his Goth property as a video studio for Goth background fetish porn. My last dinner with Jotun, there was a film crew (just three, a camera man, a director, a producer) there filming Jotuns wench Suckula. She was nicely tied up, and was silent while we ate and watched sports and drank beer. When someone on the pay site made a credit card payment, he would go into the room where she was tied to some sort of complex wooden frame, and flog her arse with one of a selection of whips. And, he wears a mask or disguise, in keeping with the Goth theme, which protects his identity from his duped vegetarian co-workers, many of whom are fanciers of bondage and masochistic themed corset dramas because of work related stress. Jotun makes a fine coleslaw. As a meat eater, Jotun does not only eat meat when he eats meat. No, he actually has a nice balance of cabbage and carrots to go with his seared hunks of flesh. So, there is cole slaw. The internet beeps again, and Jotun takes down Hydra, the nine tailed, black mink flogger. It is time to flog Suckula.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 19th, 2011 at 10:36 pm and is filed under Abilityism, Bigguns, Fenris. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.