Short Fiction




Walker's Pie

I've eaten tiger
And I've eaten ram,
I've feasted on
Most any beast
A dragon can.

I've eaten fish
And I've eaten fowl,
I've even snacked
the occasional
tawny owl.

But to my taste
nothing can vie
with a home-grown,
free range
Walker's Pie.

Deboot, despec,
debeard, defrock.
If full of beer
decant slowly
and save for stock.

Part the rump-cheeks
debone the meat,
remove the nails
and set aside
the hands and feet.

If young use two.
Another useful tip -
if bagged mature
discard the heart
and check the hip.

Use the middle claw
To chop him up.
Scoff the offal.
Feed the nasty bits
To the gryphon pup.

Pan-fry the kidneys
for hors d'oeuvre,
tartare the testes.
To waste the eyes
would be absurd.

But discard the nose,
pickle if you must.
In merry season
the excess fat
will make the crust.

Then bake him slow
on the upper shelf,
nostrils mark five -
if cave blackens,
regulate yourself.

After one hour,
withdraw your heat
Glaze with bat-oil
garnish with
the hands and feet.

Perfect for picnics
parties and potlucks.
Impress the dragonesses,
They'll cover you
with snickersnucks.

Their scales will ripple
every time they try
your home-grown,
free range
Walker's Pie.

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