As Roofi, the less successful, younger cousin to that famous children's singer, asked in his only hit song: "Squeal, squeal, pink kid, have you flesh for me?"
I'm pretty sure he's talking about cannibalism, right? Well, when that bugger(er) gets out of prison, he'll be ecstatic to discover the latest and greatest food cultivation technique ever devised in the history of eating!
I wasn't able to attend the 19th A.A.F.F. (American Association of Furry Farming) annual trade show last year, but I did snag a copy of the booklet commemorating the event from a black market pamphlets dealer in exchange for a slice of my mom's award winning Furry Toe Pie.
The booklet, more a novella really, contains more furry farming info than could be stuffed into a giant panda suit. Sprinkled among stories of alien squirrel invasion, skinless rebels, holiday organized crime and the most disfigured group of furry superheroins to ever grace network television are several informative articles and fabulous recipes you can try at home.
You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll even get the sudden urge to declare your nuetrality in protest of the Ministry of Flesh, but by the end you'll mostly be glad that the world finally has an answer to the question, "Whatever happened to Wilhelm Vaclav?"
Huh, how about that! Here I am thinking that it's the pigeons who were planning to take over the world when all along it was the squirrels.
My favorite character from these stories is the mastermind behind the 2012 liberation of Earh squirrels, his Holiness Pope Squirrelly XXXII. He is an antagonist who fits the description of "deliciously evil" perfectly. He's just as worried about his priestly garment wardrobe as he is his plot to annihilate humanity, and his insatiable lust for young squirrel cardinals and desire to skull fuck live furries is nearly respectable.
I think we'd get along just fine, dirty minds do think alike and mine has never been cleaned out very thoroughly.
I found an interesting protagonist amid this flying circus in Sonny Bunny, A.K.A. Sonny Bune. He's a minority inside a minority, a reverse-furry. Where once there was an unhappy rabbit, expensive plastic surgeries swooped in, devoured it and shat out an oddly attractive looking human being. A great modeling career may be on the horizon for this lapine-sapian, but, regardless of their estrangement, he still has some important family. Family that has important business for him to take care of. If Sonny fails them, he'll be getting one fat lump of coal in his stocking this Christmas.
I think what I love most about the many people populating the world of furry farming is that, as far as I can tell, the furries are never consulted about their being harvested. Yes, some of them do occassionally stand up and pronounce themselves to be human (Ha!), but the Ministry of Flesh has assured us time and time again that they always take the steps necessary to help confused animals remember what they truly are.
I have to be blunt a moment: This is some weird s-h-i-t, folks!
In a genre filled with the weird, whether it be characters, settings, conflicts or all three, How To Eat Fried Furries manages to stand out as an oddity unto itself. Ms. Cushing reveals to the reader a kind of weirdness hidden inside that part of life usually too difficult to coax it out from, that of the mundane. The general populous is not very interested in our agricultural techniques, in the origins of our food. We are more concerned with ingesting and forgetting about food until it forces itself back out of us.
Oh, but if only we thought about where that Genuine Amish beef comes from!
The multiple narrators bubble with pure enthusiasm, exciting the reader and drawing them into strange scenarios with youthful naivety. Even when led down the darker paths of life, each way is approached from an optimistic angle. The full view only hinted at in between the lines.
There is also a snap to the dialogue, a sort of insider-joke feeling birthed from the motivations of each character. When the Supreme Commander of God's Army of Southern Illinois spells out profane thoughts of carnality with a woman he hates amid Squirellmageddon, he's really explaining to the reader his entire life up to that point. His faith is his torchlight, and he speaks in flames.
I want to thank Nicole Cushing for shedding new light on this serious social and economical hot button issue. I can't think of a better person suited for the task of keeping informed the furry farmers of America. Her undercover work in solving the mystery of the great actor Mr. Vaclav's disappearance all those years ago, along with her reinstating into the public consciousness that short lived but much loved series Ferret Force Five proves that she is truly a loyal friend to the alternative food cultivators of the world.
I hope her noteriety increases because of this book and she is invited to write up the pamphlet for next year's National Gathering of Cannibals Anonymous.
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