'When you devour the flesh of another animal,' said Roland the Shamanic Chef from the stage. 'You assume the power of that animal.' He glanced around the auditorium, allowing the implications of this extraordinary claim a chance to simmer in the minds of his audience.
'I now have the power of a chicken,' they all thought.
The sceptical among them, however, wondered if a small blob of chicken salad from the lunch buffet really counted as the flesh of another animal. After all, the copious amounts of mayonnaise involved must surely hinder the power transference process?
And what of those diners in Paris currently consuming the power of frogs' legs? Would such pirated dynamism gain them anything beyond the ability to hop a mere yard or two along the Champs Élysées, if that?
And what about the powers ingested by eating oxtail soup, eel pie, goat's head stew, Portuguese sardines in tomato ketchup? So many questions.
But Roland was on the move again: striding to center stage where the ersatz kitchen counter was. 'So for the afternoon session,' he announced. 'I'm going to show you how to cook a side of bison. Now this recipe will make a meal for four, so all the family gets some of that famous bovine power of belligerence because we all need to become a little more assertive in our everyday lives.'
'Shut up and give me my money back you two-bit excuse for a snake oil salesman!' shouted a heckler in row F, standing up and shaking his fist at Roland as those in his immediate vicinity turned around to stare at him.
'Sorry. I ate the last of the prairie oysters,' the heckler explained, rubbing his stomach before sitting down again.
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