Desperate Measures

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Will Fagan

We drew straws
To decide
Who went first.

It was Carl.
Bad luck, Carl.

We muttered our apologies
And readied ourselves
For the gruesome deed.

Carl begged us not to do it.
I was hoping he wouldn’t.
He was ruining my appetite.

At sea for seven days
No food, no water,

Carl had eaten the hardtack.
When we weren’t looking.
Bastard was asking for it, really.

We had to eat,
There was no other way.

I was hoping we’d pick Carl.
His legs looked rather lean and tender.
He worked out, lots of cardio. It showed

We advanced on him,
Dashed his brains with an oar,
He was dead.

Good riddance,
The freeloading shit.

We weren’t hungry that night.
We did what we had to do to survive,
And now we must live with the shame.

I must admit, he didn’t taste so bad.
Like pork, but with less gristle.