“We’ve done pretty well this morning,” Dick said as he put his folder back into his file cabinet, “I suggest we knock off for lunch now and come back and finish up after we eat. Does anyone have a preference where we go?”

“It’s your town, so you pick the place,” George said.

“Good, I know a place near here where you don’t have to settle for burgers and fries or the blue plate special.”
 It was a short drive to Dick’s chosen place for lunch. It looked like an ordinary place; nothing fancy about it. We were seated without delay though there was no lack of customers. In addition to many items regularly found on lunch menus there were some strange things listed. I don’t remember specific things but foreign sounding names and wild game were on the menu. I have no idea why but a single item caught my eye, cannibal sandwich.

All kinds of weird thoughts must have gone through my head. I could have consulted my host or even a waiter as to the nature of the cannibal sandwich, but no, I was embarrassed to show my ignorance about such matters. 

Judging from its name it could be a sandwich made from or for cannibals. I was pretty sure that it did not contain cannibal meat, but that was about all I was reasonably sure of. My acquaintance with cannibals was limited to cartoons and puzzles about cannibals and missionaries. The cartoons show a missionary in a huge pot of water over a flaming fire with of course a cannibal with a bone in his hair nearby. The puzzle involves a boat that can ferry only three people in each trip across the river, and the missionaries must never be in the minority lest they be eaten by the cannibals. What could a cannibal sandwich be like? The only way to find out I thought was to order one, so I did.

While I waited for my order I wondered what it would be like, and if I could really eat it. After waiting long enough I was rewarded with my sandwich. It was a beautiful thing. There on a cold plate was a patty of ground red meat right out of the refrigerator, sandwiched between a slice of bread on the plate and a raw egg on top. I gazed at it for a full minute or maybe two before I decided that the red meat had to be beef from a cow or a steer. With a bit of salt and pepper I ate the whole thing, though I would have preferred it hot rather than cold. A great consolation was the beer that finished my meal.