I paused for a moment and then resumed eating.  Then talking with my mouth full of labia, “Nice enough woman, but a little odd.  I think it was that she was so driven to succeed that she turned a lot of people off.”  Mary Farnsworth was the first woman to graduate from her university and had already published several papers. She was only about thirty-five years old and had tremendous potential.  “Well, at least she didn’t die in vain because this is some delicious pudendum.” (Not that I was an expert.)

“Isn’t it?” agreed the Chief.  “That was just the point I was about to make.  Who knew such a sour puss would have such a sweet cunt?”  He paused for a moment as he savored the morsel in his mouth to reflect on what he obviously felt to be one of life’s major ironies. 

“She was unhappy the entire time she was here.  Nothing but bitch, bitch, bitch.”  Then the Chief did his best imitation of the recently deceased Mary Farnsworth, “But Mr. Chief, I don’t like being tied up.  But Mr. Witchdoctor, why must I be naked?  But Mr. Native Man, why must you people always be squeezing my private parts?  It’s very degrading.  Some of the people finally started referring to her as ‘But Mister’, but most of us just ignored her or pretended we didn’t understand what she was saying.  “No speeky English.  No speeky English,” he laughed.

“After a while I think she noticed that she was putting on weight,” mused the chief.  “That’s when I think she finally realized she was on the menu because she started refusing the food when the cooks would bring it to her, as if losing weight would save her from the cooking pot.  What was amusing was that she’d eventually get hungry and wind up eating more than she ordinarily would have, much to Rakotobe’s [the head cook] delight.  That’s about the same time she stopped calling everyone ‘Mister’ and started calling everyone ‘You Stinking Savage’”.

“Stinking Savage?  Allow me to apologize on behalf of my colleague, I mean my former colleague,” I said stifling a burp.

“So, was she a friend of yours?” inquired the Chief.

“More like an associate.  We didn’t spend time together socially.”

“No wonder, but I bet you would have liked to.  Nice set of knockers,” he said handing me one of Mary’s breasts from a basket of stuffed mammaries (a delicacy in some parts of the Titti Islands where the cooked breasts are stuffed with a pate made from the woman’s liver or kidneys).  He sifted through the assortment of delightful goodies till he found its mate and then raised it as if in a toast, “To your Professor Farnsworth.”

“To Mary,” I responded, relieved that the chief had forgiven her insensitivity. Then we each took a bite of stuffed breast.

“That reminds me,” said the chief looking at the scrumptious morsel in his hand.  “This morning when it came time to get the captives on to cook, I got to thinking, maybe we can make the bitch smile and have a little fun with her at the same time, so Akinyemi [the witch doctor] and I led her over to the pot and pretended like we were going to cut off her tits, one at a time, and toss them in the pot.  I grabbed her by the hair and the throat and Akinyemi acted like he’s going to cut off her right breast.  Well, you never heard anyone scream so much in your entire life.”