232 | 20110302

Karen and I were being held captive by cannibals. They were caucasian mutant infants, twice the size of normal infants. They lived like cavemen on perilous narrow mountain cliffs and overhangs of unimaginably high altitude. There was a constant risk of taking one wrong step and falling two miles. The cannibal infants had two big black cauldrons full of water, under which they had just lit a fire. They were able to coerce us to get into the water, but not before a ceremonial gesture. They rummaged through a pile of prior human body parts they were eating. They were all covered in chicken finger style breading. They cut some chunks off a bone with a big knife and made us eat. Despite being delicious, I could not help but wonder who these people were as I ate them, their gender, age, in what kind of office cubicle they worked. Sitting in the cauldron, the water began to heat. I was never panicked, but rather generally slightly concerned the whole time. I knew the water was only going to continue to heat, but I was afraid to try anything drastic because the slightest jarring motion would set me in the cauldron tumbling off the cliff, which was about as small and jutting as a pirate plank. I soon did begin to struggle, and I ended up accidentally kicking one of the infants off the cliff. It yelled all the way down, exactly the noise one would expect from a double sized mutant baby. I felt guilty.