Liver craving didn't last long
Some years ago during a “tight belt” stretch of my life I spent months living on ramen noodles.
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You know, they come in packages, throw them in some boiling water and eat ‘em. They’re cheap.
Over time I started craving meat. Someone would come in to work with a hamburger and dark lunch-stealing thoughts would cloud my brain.
One day I heard a radio ad for a local meat market. “LIVER, 4 POUNDS FOR A DOLLAR,” said the announcer.
I remembered my mom eating liver. I never did, but I suddenly wanted to fry some up with a mess of onions.
I went to the meat market, ordered my liver and walked away with four neatly wrapped packages.
I got home and thunked my bags of meat on the kitchen counter. I opened one up.
A dark, dirty, dead odor drifted into my nostrils.
“I ain’t eatin’ THAT,” I said out loud.
The next morning on my way off to work I left the opened package of liver by the door for a stray cat that slept under the porch. When I came home it was gone.
The next morning the cat was sitting out front when I presented it with another pack of liver.
The morning after that, there was the stray with two pals. I laughed out loud when I put the liver out.
The fourth morning I opened the door to find nine cats waiting for me. I stood there and looked at the stray.
“Aren’t you nice,” I said. “You told all your friends. I’m sorry though, this is the last one.”
I put the liver on the porch and went off to work.
The next morning they were all out there waiting but I had nothing.
“Sorry guys,” I said. “The liver train has left the station.”
That afternoon I splurged on a giant cheeseburger.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t do the same for the cats.
Grant McGee is a long-time broadcaster and former truck driver who rides bicycles and likes to talk about his many adventures on the road of life.
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