Fillet O' Finger

2022.01.17 19:04 allanspines Fillet O' Finger

I am called Mr. Fetch, though that is not my real name. My employer will simply be known as The Client. He has eccentric taste, and just the other day he finally got something he's always wanted.
Allow me to set the scene.
The Client's art studio is where the horrific scene will take place. Turned into a makeshift dining room that he, dressed for high society, occupies with stagnant boredom. Models adorn his background. They look famished from any distance. Their genders are not always identifiable. I, the Alfred to his Wayne, and long familiar with my master's proclivities have arranged a glamorous evening of culinary delight the likes of which has never been seen before.
Even though the room is dimly lit, the armed guards wear black shades. Each expensive. Each hiding their eyes from the world. I as concierge, elegant in black formal wear, subtly check the watch under my wrist. The Client's lips curl in scorn, words forming, and interrupted by a polite knock at the door.
His eyes widen. The models move closer. Two kneel next to him while another two attend to his shoulders. He meets my gaze, which carries a reassuring smile.
The Client's voice is steady, “Enter.”
A squeaky server cart echoes through the room, bringing it to life. The source is an old Asian chef, flanked by his two accomplices. One is tall and puffy, young-looking in his gray suit. The other comes off a little more confident, dressed in a deep brown jacket and pants, with a black-tie to hang himself with. They look to one another with accomplished pride.
I hold up my palms to remind them, no speaking. Only silence will do. The Client is staring at the chef’s hands. Meaty and full from a life of hard work. Not calloused like some dock worker. Not arthritic like the feeble and old. Perfect hands. Only the best will do.
The cart creaks to a stop. A solemn hush fills the room. The chef offers a stiff bow and before the Client can return the greeting; he flicks on the gas stove attached to his cart. Twin flames alight beneath the burners and from inside the cart, he pulls a bowl of freshly boiled parsnips. His hands dance like magic, slicing each parsnip down into soft cubes, each aching to be sautéed. A dollop of oil sizzles into a pan, followed by sweet and savory spices. The parsnips tumble in and a wooden spoon guides them to deliciousness.
The chef returns to the underside of his cart. The Client leans in and inhales the aroma.
He breathes, “mother couldn't make them finer.”
I consider the accomplices, occupied with watching the chef as he rifles around for more parts of the dish to come. A bowl of steamed green beans arises. The chef pours them into another pan. More seasoning and sizzling. Large kernels of black pepper scatter across a cutting board, crushed beneath a meat tenderizer. Their leavings poured in with the green beans.
The Client is beside himself, “Peppered black, the only green beans worth eating.”
A pale model dares to speak, “I never ate my green beans growing up.”
The client looks at them with feigned concern, “it shows.” A few others chuckle delicately.
The accomplices continue to smile proudly, unmoved by the comedic display before them. I do note the emergence of sweat on the gray one's brow.
The chef stops for a moment. Takes a quick breath and lays out a cloth wrap of surgeons’ tools. With a length of rubber tubing, he wraps a tight tourniquet around the middle finger of his left hand. He holds that arm up over his head as he continues to prepare the coming meal. His right hand working just as well alone as it ever did paired. The Client can't take his eyes off that finger. He knows what's coming, and can't believe it will finally happen.
The chef turns the cart so the client can get a better look. With fingers tucked beneath his palm, he presses his middle finger, now swollen and red, against the cutting board. With a pair of curved forceps, he digs beneath the fingernail and twists it off. He makes not one sound, much to the client’s amazement. The younger of the accomplices looks on in horror, then turns his gaze elsewhere, anywhere. Even to the blank corners of the room.
The other accomplice, in brown, keeps a confident smile on his face. Even as the chef drew the knife along the length of the sacrificed finger. With a snip of a meat scissor the remaining skin loosens and, through a flourish, is discarded. There is a slight ripping sound in the air. The models gasp as the Client guffaws. The man in gray swallows hard as the man in brown gives no reaction beyond a confident smile.
Blood coats the cutting board, and the chef uses a knife to slide it aside. He snips the white tendons, slides the knife under the bone, and slices a perfect fillet of finger meat, unwrapping it all off the bones with ease. Which dangle uselessly like a puppet cut free of its strings. The fillet glides into the pan with the blackened green beans. The oil reacts instantly, and the aroma wafts about the room. This is not a good time to have a weak stomach.
Forceps are used to break off each finger bone until only a stub remains. The errant bones are set aside with the skin. Forceps still in hand, the chef moves on to the next finger. Applying a tourniquet, popping off a fingernail, and drawing a cut along the length. The man in gray's face shades down to match his suit. The man in brown keeps smiling, “smells great.” His accomplice looks at him slack-jawed as the client chortles.
“A man of taste and sophistication. Don't go too far after this is all,” he eyes the frying pans, “done.”
The second finger's meat sizzles in the pan. A wooden spoon moves the fresh piece into the heat while pushing the first cut aside to the edges. One guard slips a bit despite himself.
The Client, feeling feisty, notes his condition, “does Bruno need a break?”
Bruno, though that is not his name, recovers, “alert sir.” He steadies himself and keeps his eyes front.
The Client smiles contently, feeling superior in every way, but the third finger's filleting is so deft, he gasps in awe despite himself. The sizzle of the final slice of meat fills the room, bringing a mixture of suppressed disgust and wicked curiosity. The chef splashes alcohol on his bloody stumps and wraps them in gauze. He eyes the meat as doing so, a testament to his craft.
With tongs, he moves the green beans to a plate. The parsnips, long caramelized, join the veggies. A final dash of pink salt over the meats, followed by a spatula that gathers the fingerlets. The macabre dish sits with the three fingers, each a different rareness, the blackened green beans splaying out like a spider hidden beneath.
The Client’s eyes salivate at the sight. His mouth cries out weakly. Tears run down the length of his face. The chef, with his one good hand, gathers the plate and approaches my master. The Client mouths a thank you, utterly at a loss for words. As soon as the plate hits the table he dives for it. His fingers mingle with the green beans, caught in their grasp. He leans in close and kisses each finger multiple times. He pushes his own fingers into his mouth and moans, lightly chewing on them, caught up in his true fantasy.
He sits back, regains his composure, picks up a knife and fork, and takes a bite of some green beans, before moving on to the parsnips.
The chef gathers his cart. Turning off the gas, placing the skin, bones, and fingernails into a red hazmat bin, he seems no worse for wear. The man in gray is open-mouthed, gaped, breathing in a personal hell. The man in brown turns to me and says in a hush, “we're all glad this worked out so well.” I feign a nod of approval.
The client stabs his fork into the darker of the cooked meats, and brings it up to his nose, taking time to appreciate the aroma and presentation.
“Perfection.”
He opens his mouth, waggles the fork a bit playfully, the finger wiggling in return, and strikes like a serpent. He gnaws lovingly on his prize. The chef bows formally along with his accomplices. The Client sits back in ecstasy. He continues chewing while dropping his head down in a weak attempt at a returned bow. One model licks juices from his chin, savoring the taste. My master grins goofily at them and offers a tiny bite of the finger.
The trio gathers themselves up and makes their way out. The Client calls out to them, “remember, not too far.”
As soon as the door closes I retrieve a remote from my jacket pocket. With a click, a rather bland painting of a woman's mutilated corpse opens up to a display screen. The cameras are following the trio down a dimly lit hallway.
The squeaky cart is sharp on the ears, so I drop the volume a bit. The three are in a confident stroll. Even the man in the gray suit is regaining his color. They make their way to a small windowless room. With another click, the camera changes from the hallway to where the gentlemen are, and as I turn the volume back up their deception is revealed.
The man in gray becomes excited in his whispers, “we did it!”
The man in brown holds out his hands, “we did, and without a hitch.”
The chef, thick in a Brooklyn accent, “You idiot, the prosthetic almost fell off!”
The man in gray hushes them all, “keep it down, I saw the fake skin curl up, but you sir, you slid it back no problem.”
The chef removes the bandages from his hand and pulls off the bloody stumps, revealing much older nubs. Three fingers he'd been missing, more than likely, most of his life. He pushes the “meat” of the fake fingers out.
He smiles, “hufu, human tofu, tastes like chicken.” They quietly laugh as much as they dare.
The man in brown elates, “Hollywood grade special effects and culinary science for the weirdos! Gotta love the industry.”
There's a knock at the door. Guards I had already staged between them and the exit.
This was unexpected. They hurriedly place the prosthetic back on the chef's hand. He slumps his shoulders to look weak. The man in gray is fussing over the wound like he's redressing it.
The man in brown speaks, “Come on in.”
My accomplices, six in total, crowd the small room.
Using the expensive remote as a microphone I speak directly to the room, “Excellent performance gentlemen. The Client is overcome with joy.” He chuckles next to me, knowing what's coming. They, however, all relax at this, “just one more thing.”
The guards, on queue, pull guns from their jackets.
“He's requested seconds, and this time, no tricks.”
submitted by allanspines to JustNotRight [link] [comments]


2022.01.17 19:04 Kiefed Looking for my first gaming PC

I can only imagine so many people make posts like this and I understand how annoying it is and I really hate to be this guy but I am struggling in my search so I Have got to break my silence.
I have got a budget of between 800 pounds to 1200 pounds. I am looking for a gaming PC that will be able to run games such as rust, Garry's mod, counterstrike, Call of Duty and any other fps games. This budget does not include keyboard, mouse and any other features.
I would love to build my own but I do not have the patience or will to do it plus I never good at building things it will be a complete disaster haha. It should be noted that I have created my own design online but I do not believe it will work together and I do not believe it will be the best that I can get out of my budget.
Please any suggestions will be greatly appreciated I have searched high and low But all I seem to find his mixed reviews. Please if anyone can help I will forever be in debt to you.
Thank you and have a great night.
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2022.01.17 19:04 0FFlClAL me when i take a picture of me taking a picture of me in the mirror

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2022.01.17 19:04 TheYellowSprout HELP: I think Melatonin ruined my sleep cycle permanently :/

I’ve been a night owl my whole life and as another new year came, ‘go to bed early’ was one of my new year resolutions that I’ve never been able to achieve.
Anyway my roomie suggested to try melatonin gummies as they work well for her. I tried 3-4 nights, not sure it was placebo or the gummies are actually working. I was able to fall asleep at 10pm! Usually it was after 1am.
But I started to have more vivid& intense dreams (I already had dreams every night before this). And the worst is that I start to wake up several times in the middle of the night… and it was so hard for me to fall back to sleep again. Usually I went to bed late, but it was able to sleep all the way through the night until my alarm woke me up. I also felt very very tired and not rested waking up after taking melatonin (1 or 2 gummies both do the same to me)
I had to stop after a few days but now seems my sleep is ruined. Not only I still can’t fall sleep until 1am, but also I keep waking up several times in the middle of the night and feeling quite exhausted the next day….
I am hesitant to try magnesium now .. any suggestions..?
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2022.01.17 19:04 ThinkOutTheBox What do you think will happen with the current restrictions?

Just wondering what everyone thinks will happen given the current Omicron situation
View Poll
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2022.01.17 19:04 Slow-Attention-2033 Monster hunter rise has me hooked

Woah. Here I am. I've wanted this game for a while, and have thought about picking up a monster hunter since I started playing games ~5 years ago.
I've always loved souls title and saw a natural affinity with the monster hunter series. But the focus on grind kept me away, not because I think it is an issue ( it isn't; they are just different games) but because I wanted to play it with a more wide open schedule, to give more time to it.
After nearly a year waiting to play rise I finally slotted it in. And it's absolutely amazing. Its so beautiful with a lot of little touches that make the whole thing charming. Putting dogs and cats in the game is so smart and makes the game cozy, take for example the phenomenon of everyone customizing their in game pets based on their own.
The gameplay feels so smart. From my early game perspective, I like the openness in terms of selecting your weapon and thus your gameplay style. I expected levels and speccing, but upgrades seem more open. I just need to grind more to be able to have multiple weapons of the same level.
The cinematic intros for each monster is incredible too. Camp b movie horror. And the music! It's such a complete package.
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2022.01.17 19:04 narcissist1629 just curious

i think that official ranking was horrible so i wanted to ask yall ur ranking of albums im sorry if this is a generic question
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2022.01.17 19:04 Onecrappieday Woman charged for 2nd degree manslaughter for giving her friend keys to drive home drunk.

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2022.01.17 19:04 PassiveDallas Ngl I kinda want to be a dog

Not a furry. I’d just love to sit around all day and get to do Jack shit.
Eat, fart, sleep and repeat.
Also free cuddles from people!!! I wish I could get cuddled a lot more than I do rn
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2022.01.17 19:04 impatientasshole Wait till next Month to buy?

Looking to buy a 3060 11800h 17.3 laptop. Are there any significant events next month i.e. new releases that will push older prices down or holiday sales? I know CES just happened so thought there might be new releases soon and perhaps wait a little?
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2022.01.17 19:04 MotherofHobbits Does anyone else always use tiny whisk for their sugar and yeast bases?

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2022.01.17 19:04 yozzzzzz First focaccia ever. Tomatoes, garlic, green onions, basil, olive oil.

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2022.01.17 19:04 After_Biscotti Don’t go too wild

Every meal will be vegetables/fruit and lean meat or eggs. That was my holy grail diet mantra. I would stick with it 1-2 days, eat something like a piece of bread and think to myself: “you’ve already messed it up, you might as well go all the way.” Then I’d get depressed and eat more shit. In a couple of days or a week I’d start again!
Don’t do that, it’s a terrible way of living
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2022.01.17 19:04 Eyoandmo Anyone else have sims that just like refuse to go to their university classes? I’ll click go to class and then as they walk there they just decided to go on their phone or pull out their Hw and never go to class

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2022.01.17 19:04 Th3MeMeB0I What

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2022.01.17 19:04 BootsiCalico DROP CLA204, I NEED THIS COURSE

Please drop out of CLA204 if you don’t intend to take it. I need this course please and I am 13th on the waitlist. 
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2022.01.17 19:04 Lordwigglesthe1st Secondary M.2 Drive (Samsung 860 EVO 1TB) suddenly went dead in my Windows 10 Desktop. Only 2-3 years old. Nothing online is helping...

Crossposted from techsupport
As the title says. I've tried everything (I Think).
- Removing the drive and placing it into an enclosure (enclosure becomes visible in disk management but not the enclosed drive.)
- removing and replacing the drive in its mobo slot.
--> chkdsk x: /f /r **returns [The parameter is incorrect]
--> changing the drive letter and path has no effect
--> attempt to recover with multiple recovery software's, the drive is not visible to those programs.
--> check BIOS, drive is only seen as the enclose but not accessible
--> Disk Properties show 0gb
--> Disk management lists the disk as 'Removable' , 'Online' but with no visual, Unallocated or otherwise.
--> Powercycling through bios:[ 30 min on / 30 sec off / repeat ] does not work.
! have been having some power failure issues recently but hasn't seem to affect the drive (until now?)
Any hope for my drive? seems like this struck out of the blue
submitted by Lordwigglesthe1st to buildapc [link] [comments]


2022.01.17 19:04 imdepressed2021 My pcr test came back inconclusive. What does this mean?

I got a test yesterday. My direct supervisor tested positive on Saturday, so I got a test yesterday. Results came in this afternoon as inconclusive. My mom, who's been staying with me also got tested and her results are negative.
What does inconclusive mean, am I more likely negative or positive? I have some exhaustion and headaches, but I have another test scheduled for tomorrow.
submitted by imdepressed2021 to CoronavirusMa [link] [comments]


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