Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Cannibal 4H: Chapter Eight: The Judging by Eurytion

   JUDGING DAY AT THE FAIR.  The culmination of months of efforts for the
entrants; the culmination of far more than that for the entries.  Never was
the old joke about the chicken only being involved with breakfast while the
pig was committed ever truer.  The human cattle that would be appraised
today were certainly committed.

   Cow 701 presented some special considerations for the judging panel. 
Normally, because of the difficulty involved in the raising, veal cattle
weren't entered at the junior cattle raiser class.  In fact, almost all the
human veal produced for sale came from giant commercial farms located in
the Northwest.  It wasn't profitable to cultivate human veal on family
farms.

   After months of intensive research on the World Wide Web and
consultations with extension agents and other experts, Joey had designed
his project as the first step in lowering the costs of veal production for
smaller, local operations such as Geryon Cattle Farms.  Plans for the
operation had already been drawn up before Valerie had lost her
identification badge at the fair.

   While it still cost more to ready cow 701 for slaughter than her true
cash market price would be (prize winners at the fair were always auctioned
off for far more than they would bring on the open market), Joey believed
that his new methods could allow smaller, family-owned cattle farms to
make, not lose, money on veal.

   His special veal pen had nearly the same per square foot operating cost
as a regular barn.  A carefully run cow-calf operation with a breeding herd
producing calves solely for veal combined with the selective purchase of
heifers and mavericks at auction could help make small scale veal farms
feasible and profitable.

   First though Joey and cow 701 had to get through the judging.

   The three judges preceded Joey into the transfer box.  Closing the door
behind them, Joey explained about the need for the red lighting.  When the
time came for them to judge his girl's skin tone he would place the goggles
on 701 and replace the red lighting with white.  But, for most of the
judging, the carmine illumination would have to suffice.

   Complying with her master's hand signals, cow 701 exited her veal cage
with the ease brought on by nearly a year of practice.  Her calm outward
demeanour as she was examined revealed no trace of the turmoil she felt
inside.

   The Valerie-mind was silently screaming; as a real human she had
attended enough Cannibal 4-H Fairs to know she was being judged and what
came afterward.  But McCain's conditioning held, even as she heard the
judges speak of the high quality of her meat and joke with Joey about the
best ways to serve her.

   In addition to the standard techniques, the panel used a new technology
during the judging: ultrasound examination.  Based on the medical device
used by doctors, a specially constructed machine sent high-frequency sound
waves into cow 701 and then recorded the waves as they bounced off the
various body tissues.

   The mechanism produced a visual outline of the girl's internal body
structure on a small screen, allowing the judges to gage proportions of fat
to lean, fat thickness, and the size and quality of the various cuts of
meat on cow 701.

   "Son," said Art Trubell after they had left the transfer box.  "Even
though I'm the foreman of this panel, I'm probably speaking out of turn
because as a panel we haven't made a decision yet.  But I have to tell you
how impressed I am by your entry.  We serve a lot of veal at my restaurant
and if you didn't have that arrangement with Crenshaw I'd be top bidder on
that girl of yours and serve her at my next `by subscription only' meal."

   Joey had rarely eaten at Brigliadoro.  Widely considered to be the best
and fanciest restaurant in town, its prices usually kept him away.  Having
a hamburger and fries at the Hitching Post might not be as elegant or as
gourmet but it sure was closer to what he could afford.  The last time he
had dined at Brigliadoro was after he had won his second blue ribbon.  Al
Crenshaw had taken Linda Sue and he there to celebrate and the bill had
come to several hundreds of dollars.  Still, praise from Art Trubell had to
be taken seriously.  A hard-dealing businessman, no one had ever accused
him of giving out compliments like candy at Halloween.

   Jeff Myerson, who served as the county extension agent for the county to
the south spoke up next.  "I have to agree with Art.  That's a fine heifer
you've got there.  The fact that she's a conversion and you've only had her
for ten months makes what you've accomplished even more amazing.  I don't
have any doubt about how I'm going to vote."

   The last judge was Peter Barton, the owner of an agricultural implements
dealership in town.  Having grown up as farm kid and still involved in
overseeing the raising of crops for the local food bank, he was more than
knowledgable about agricultural issues.

   "Joey, I don't think there's any question about how well you've done
with this project.  I think you deserve the Blue Ribbon for Best of Show
and I'll push for it.  Even though I knew that cow before she was
converted, she has me really looking forward to sitting down at a dining
table and enjoying some nice veal parmigiana.

   "In fact, I'm halfway considering contracting with you to do the same
thing with my stepdaughter, Patty.  Even though she's only ten years old,
she's made it plain that she doesn't approve of her mom remarrying me and
she's done everything she can to bust us up.  If you don't mind, I'd like
to bring Patty around to the farm and maybe even to the butchering.  Your
cow used to baby-sit for her and I want her to see what might happen if she
doesn't start to behave and treat me with some respect."

   Joey beamed at the accolades he was receiving.  At the same time he
tucked Mr.  Barton's request away for further consideration.  Families
selling their unruly offspring at auction did happen although the kids
usually had to be really serious troublemakers before such a drastic step
was taken.  Maybe there was a way to bypass the auction process and make
direct purchases.  It was worth talking with his father about.

   That evening Joey and Linda Sue went to the Polynesian-style long pig
roast.  Joey had spent much of the previous day staving off his anxiety by
working on the volunteer crew that helped to dig the three cooking pits or
lovos.  Linda Sue had enjoyed herself by assisting in the preparation of
the three young Fijian girls for their roasting.

   Each lovo was a uniform 43 inches deep but their length and width varied
to fit the girl who would cooked within their confines.  While everyone
called it a pig roast, during cooking the girls were more steamed than
roasted.

   Four hours before the girls were to be lowered into the furrows, an iron
pipe honeycombed with 1/4" holes was laid on the ground at the pit bottom.
A standpipe reached up from one end to stand about three foot higher than
the earth's rim.  The pipe, along with the outflow of a vacuum cleaner,
would be used to get air to the fire allowing it to burn more evenly.

   Under the chef's direction, the pit was filled with wood; each piece of
which had been carefully cut to be the same size as all the others, another
aid to even heat throughout the lovo.  The fire was lit without the use of
chemical starters such as charcoal lighter and allowed to burn down until
the bottom of the excavation was covered with about two feet of red hot
coals.

   After the fire was underway, Linda Sue and the other volunteers began to
prepare the Polynesian long pig.  The young carcasses, each weighing about
120 pounds, were placed on plastic covered tables.  Large bowls of sea salt
were set on each table.

   As she rubbed her long pig with salt, Linda Sue was enchanted by how
beautiful the Fijian girl was.  Her dark, wavy hair, now encased in a
transparent non-heat conducting hair net, reached to the small of her back.
Her face was given symmetry by a broad flat nose spread over wide pouting
lips.  Her skin was already a dusky bronze which would not noticeably
darken during cooking.  Her most fascinating feature was the elaborate
blue-black tattooing of geometric motifs which encircled the girl's public
area and extended into a wide band around her hips.  The ornate tattoos
made it look as though the girl was wearing a pair of dark, skin-tight,
intricately patterned shorts.

   "Be sure and cover every inch of that skin with the salt," the chef
instructed Linda Sue.  "That means inside the body cavities as well as
outside."

   Linda Sue turned her attention from the body on the table to the chef.
If the girl was beautiful, she thought, this man is more than a match for
her.  Knowing that he was being examined, Cakkobau stepped back from the
table to give Linda Sue a more comprehensive look.

   Linda Sue liked what she saw.  The Fijian stood a little over six foot.
His hair was black and cut close to his scalp, its waves reaching straight
back on his head.  His skin colour was a match for the girl on the table
while his face was squarer, less elongated than the girl's.  A blue shadow
of emerging beard outlined his upper lip and chin.

   While the girl's tattoos only covered her waist, the chef's entire torso
was decorated with an intricate network of fine blue tatoos.  Because of
his role as chef, Cakkobau was not completely nude.  His loins were wrapped
in a sulu made of red cloth with a white depiction of some sort of tropical
flower or plant.  His teeth, revealed as he smiled at her, resembled a line
of square pearls.

   "Come along now.  Quit staring at me, you're falling behind the other
women," he admonished the smitten young girl.  "If you really want to see
what's under my sulu, come to my bure after we've put these long pigs on
the fire.  Until then you've got work to do," he said giving her naked ass
a squeeze as he strode arrogantly toward the next preparation table.

   With a humph that could be heard throughout the tent, Linda Sue grabbed
another handful of sea salt and rubbed it vigorously inside the girl's body
cavity.  Cheeky bastard, she thought, although Joey would be out having a
beer with his friends and she really didn't have that much to do this
afternoon.  Maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a stroll down toward the
visitor's tents, just for the sake of maintaining friendly international
relations.  Who knows she might even be able to pick up a few pointers to
use at the Geryon Farm celebration.

   After the trench full of logs had been reduced to a bed of coals, Joey
and the others added more wood, stirring with metal paddles to mix the
coals and new wood together.  Next to each lovo stood a 3-foot high pyramid
of round river rocks anywhere from five to eight inches in diameter. 
Fireplace tongs were used to carefully create an even layer of rocks over
the fire bed.

   Out came the prepared long pigs.  Each had been thoroughly salted,
stuffed with dressing and laid out on a burlap sheet.  The sheets had been
soaked in water until they were dripping then covered with banana stumps
and ti leaves.  The burlap was wrapped around the girls, making sure that
each body was fully covered with the stumps and leaves.  These would help
permeate the human pork with the smoky steamed flavour characteristic of
long pig.

   The burlap had then been sown together at the top using steel thread to
attach a series of rings.  These rings would be used to place and remove
the pigs from the lovos.  The final step in preparing the girls was to wrap
a layer of chicken wire around the burlap.  This would help keep the girl's
meat from falling off of the bones before serving.  Each burlap bundle was
doused with twenty litres of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and lowered into
the lovo.

   The remaining stones were layered around and on top of the long pig. 
Joey helped to dump 100 pounds of lit charcoal over each lovo's second
stone layer then wrestle a metal sheet across the opening.  Beside him
Billy shovelled dirt onto the metal sheets until each was topped with a
grave-like mound.

   "This isn't exactly my idea of fast food," Billy commented to Joey. 
"Even my mom's Thanksgiving turkey doesn't have to cook for 24 hours.  I
hope the wait and all this work is worth it.  I still say nothing can beat
a quality human cow roasted over an open fire."

   Twenty-four hours later, as he reached out to pull some thigh meat off
the still steaming girl, Billy was ready to admit that he was wrong.  "Man,
this is delicious.  This girl's meat is so tender just falls off the bone.
I've never tasted any girl at the fair that was this flavourful or so
juicy. I think I may even have thirds of this long pig.  We've got to do
this more often."

   Joey, who had been washing a mouthful of meat down with a swallow of
yaqona, a mildly narcotic drink made by the Fijians from the kava root,
could only nod in agreement.  After passing the wooden tanoa bowl to the
person next to him, he clapped his hands three times as custom required.

   Turning around to look behind him, Joey spoke to Linda Sue.  "I heard
you spent a couple of hours with Cakkobau yesterday after the girls were
ready for the lovo.  Did you learn anything we could use?" Linda Sue's
face, already ruddy from the reflection of the fire, seemed to increase in
its redness.

   "I learned more about their customs and mores than I did about their
cooking techniques," she said carefully choosing her words to traverse a
mine field.  "Those tattoos that all the girls had were part of the veiqia
rite.  The Fijians use bamboo sliver or sharp shells dipped in ink to draw
the lines and a special pick made of coconut shell dipped in inks driven
into the skin by a mallet to make the dots.  Cakkobau says they don't use
any anesthetic so it's very painful.  The girls have to be held down by
other girls and they say the men can hear their screams echoing out into
the bay.  It takes almost a year for the tattooing to be completed but,
when it is, it's a sign that the girls are now young women and eligible to
be married.

   "Cakkobau offered to have his duabati, the woman who does the tattoos,
start on mine now and complete it at next year's fair.  Or I could just go
back with him to Oneata, that's his island, after the fair is over and have
it done properly in his village.

   Having fallen under the influence of the yaqona Joey and Billy, began to
giggle.

   "I don't see what's so funny you two," Linda Sue replied huffily.  "I
could go to Fiji if I wanted."

   Billy managed to regain his self control long enough to explain to Linda
Sue that Cakkobau had ulterior motives for his friendly invitation.

   "I was talking with Max Mignon, you know the guy that does all the
purchasing of human cattle for the food court.  Max told me that Cakkobau
asked about the cost of buying human cattle and having them shipped back
home.  Max said that Cakkobau said the price Max quoted was outrageous and
that he'd get his own Long Pig from America much cheaper than that.

   "Max asked how he intended to get volunteers to be eaten.  Cakkobau told
him he wasn't going to tell the women they were volunteering to be eaten;
he was just going to get them down there for other reasons.  Said they'd
find that out they were on the menu just before the ritual slaughtering
started."

   "Al Crenshaw told me the same thing," said Joey, filling in for Billy
who was now giggling so hard his sides hurt.  "And that Cakkobau said he'd
not only get his meat cheaper, he'd get them to pay their own shipping and
handling costs.  I guess he must of had his eye on you.  If you fly down to
visit him on his island, I'd give you two months tops before they were
pulling you up out of a lovo, steaming hot and ready to serve.

   "Hon, if you want to go and be a long pig instead of a cow, I'd be the
last to stop you.  Just let me know ahead of time so I can be there for the
feast.  After all our time together, I wouldn't want you to be eaten by
strangers."

   Seething with anger Linda Sue got up and left the fire.  She wasn't sure
who see was madder at: Cakkobau for deceiving her or Joey for enlightening
her.  After a few minutes a staggering Joey caught up with her.

   "Hey, sweetheart, come on.  I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to make you mad. I
thought you knew what the deal was.  You've always been quick to figure out
all the angles.  You've made most of the deals; you got my dad to let me
enter the first fair; you got Al Crenshaw to sponsor me; you found Valerie
and made sure I claimed her --- it was just funny to see that the Fijian
had you so fooled about what he really wanted."

   Linda Sue stood still, her fury toward Joey somewhat abated.  The young
farmer took her by the hand and began to lead her back to the party.

   "Don't worry about it," he told her.  "It could have been much worse. 
You know that Alma Henderson from the aid society is actually going to go.
She's already bought her ticket.  Told everyone she was going to serve the
needs of the heathens.  She's stuck her pointy nose into so many other
people's business that nobody felt like telling her she was going to serve
their needs on a wooden platter.

   "Lucy Dorsey's also going.  She's using her tip money from the
restaurant to pay her way.  Jonny Quigley caught her in the tent with
Cakkobau; she was licking the last of his sperm off her face and the sides
of his cock.  Anyway, they had a big fight and Lucy broke up with Jonny. 
Her mom's too drunk most of the time to care what happens so she won't stop
her.  Jonny knows but he's so mad about that blow job he's going to let her
go.  Says it'll serve her right.  Like Jonny's never stepped out on Lucy.

   "So what if Cakkobau had you on his list.  It just shows he's got good
taste.  I think you'd probably taste pretty good myself, although if you
were my cow I'd have you spitted for a barbecue, not steamed in a lovo. 
Since it's you I'd even give in and use an oak fire.  But I'd still use a
spicy red sauce, that'd be a good match with you.

   "Anyway, come on back.  It's a shame to let the rest of this feast go to
waste," Joey cajoled.  "Hey, you want to hear the strangest part about
Lucy? Jonny says that Cakkobau's tattoos go all the way down to his feet
and even cover his dick.  Can you believe that?" Sure that she couldn't be
seen blushing in the dark, Linda Sue said that she could.

   The couple had returned to the lovo.  The Fijian girl had been served
face up, her legs stretched to their full length, her arms laid out
parallel to the sides of her chest.Her wavy, dark hair had come through the
heat unscathed and was fanned out to the sides and back of her head.  While
she was surrounded by limp ti leaves and wilted banana stalks, she did not
have an apple in her mouth.

   The girl's bones were beginning to show their whiteness where her flesh
had been pulled away for consumption by the country cannibals.  Some of the
people were breaking the girl's fingers and toes off from the torso and
then sucking the meat from the bones before throwing them into the lovo
which received the offerings with hissing and crackling.

   Linda Sue noted that the area around the girl's cunt was hardly touched.
Usually this was considered a prized piece of meat at the fair.  When she
wondered out loud why, a diner on the other side of the lovo complained
about the taste.

   "It's like eating overcooked raw fish, even though that sounds funny. 
That meat is oily just like raw fish, it's gritty and well, too smoky, or
something.  Whatever caused it, it sure makes it taste nasty.  That cunt
steak just isn't edible."

   Linda Sue wanted to tell him that the taste was a result of the dye the
Fijians used to tattoo the girl with.  Made of soot and ashes mixed with
fish and turtle oil, it would account for why such a usually prime cut of
human cattle was so unpalatable.  But it was better not to direct Joey's
attention to any portion of her encounter with the Fijian cook.  It
wouldn't do to have him start wondering about whether or not she too had
seen the full extent of Cakkobau's tattoos.