Shannon looked at the heaping piles of meat in
front of her on the table. She’d signed
up for this cooking class 4 months ago with her best friend Amy, but, like
always, Amy bailed at the last minute and Shannon was stuck going alone.
The teacher was intense to say the least. She was a little French woman with a heavy
accent and curly white hair. She was
very passionate about cooking—and it definitely showed! She certainly wasn’t afraid to yell at her
students when they made a mistake. She
carried a wooden spoon that she would bang on the table to get their attention
when they messed up. Shannon was
terrified of the woman, in all honesty.
They were making a bunch of dishes using a pig, the meat from which
was piled high on the table in stacks.
All the students had placed the eyes in separate bowls. Shannon got a weird feeling every time she
looked at them, but she couldn’t stop herself from staring. She felt like she was obsessing about the
eyes a little too much but the idea of using them was just so foreign to her.
Shannon could hear the teacher talking but she was only half
listening. Those eyes were starting to
haunt her. The teacher was instructing
the class on what to do next but Shannon didn’t care anymore.
Smack! The wooden spoon banged on the table in front
of Shannon.
“Keep your eyes peeled!” the teacher yelled before turning around
and walking back to the front of the room.
Shannon picked up her pig eyes and, with her own eyes shut, began
peeling them.
“Non! Qu’est-ce que tu
fais?! Non, non, non,” the teacher
screamed in Shannon’s direction.
Shannon turned around to see who was in trouble before realizing she
was sitting in the last row and the teacher was staring directly at her.
“What?” Shannon asked. She
didn’t speak French.
“What are you doing? Don’t
peel the eyes, keep your eyes peeled for bad meat,” the teacher said.
“Oh, sorry,” Shannon said, putting the eyes down.
Shortly afterwards, Shannon packed up her bag and slipped out of the
classroom, never to return.
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