The Story of Greek Easter 2: Philectric Boogaloo

Anyone who has spent more than fourteen seconds with me will likely tell you that I am literally a perfect gentleman. My manners, my presence, my scintillating wit and nearly superhuman good looks, all have been pristinely crafted to make me the ultimate in class.

But there is a change, readers, when certain foods are placed before me. The thousands of limiters I have erected in my brain to keep the beast within in check are released. It is a terrifying and beautiful sight.

Lamb (or, in this case, goat, as it ended up being) does this to me. It must be understood that when cooked this way, there is very very little of the animal that is not attatched to bone. This makes it far more flavorful but renders it nearly impossible to eat with anything approaching tact or prudence.

It just so happens that this particular goat was apparently a personal trainer or something because it was almost entirely devoid of fat, essential to these kinds of meats. The result was that, while tasty as all hell, it was a little tough and did not, like the fattier lamb, fall off the bone easily.

I hope I am understood. The manner of eating that was required to get at the meat was devoid of all the ingenuity and evolution of humankind. One needed to summon the ancient animal within to partake of this bounty.

And lo, I did. Let me illustrate, for convenience, the transformation that takes place when lamb or goat is placed before me.


This is me normally. A fine, upstanding young man whose bright eyes reflect unwavering hope for the future. An almost impish smile highlights the face of someone who has nothing but joy in his heart.


This is the beast within, ready and more than willing to do anything it needs or desires to for sustenance. Dread orbs in its head see only prey, only that which is to be consumed. What once held hope and joy now has nothing in it but rage and hunger, and the black fog of death sprays from every orifice, the destroyer of worlds rising to devour all life.

I am not proud of it, readers. I take no joy in it. But this is what I become, and we can none of us deny our true nature.

But goddamn if it wasn't ever a good meal.