Once upon a time, in Merry Olde England, lived a man with the unlikely name of Captain Murderer. He was a vile, smelly (but undeniably wealthy and elligible) bachelor, with the peculiar habit of sharpening his teeth with a file as he looked in the mirror each morning.
He was, in point of fact, a marrying man, and had walked down the aisle more than once. Of course, he was possessed of a few peculiar habits. For instance, on the way to the chapel, he had the pathway strewn with strange flowers, which he referred to as “garnishings for house-lamb.”
His brides, always innocent young girls unsuspecting of any malice or wickedness on the part of their repulsive husband, tittered tot hemselves abotu such eccentricities, and focused themselves on the business of maintaining the household.
It was soon later that Captain Murderer fell upon them, disemboweling them in a cannibalistic rage, and then salting the portions and sending it off to the baker to turn into meat pie. These he slopped up greedily, his eyes rolling around in his head in ecstacy as the gooey, gory stuff as shoved into his gullet.
And it was not merely ONCE that Captain Murderer indulged his criminal appetite, but AGAIN and AGAIN, until, finally, his attention fell upon a pair of twins, one of whom was persuaded that she should be the next Mrs. Murderer to walk down the matrimonial aisle.
(How the Captain explained the sudden disappearances of his preceding wives, and how he deflected suspicion on his own person, would probably take up another story altogther. Suffice it to say, he was perfectly secure in indulging his anthropophagous whims.)
So yet again the good Captain took a young bride to the altar, and, yet again, he soon tired of her trivialities; grew restless, bored, hungry, and finally pounced upon her, disemboweled her, chopped, salted, and sent her carefully-packaged remains to the baker to make into pie.
(We can imagine his hair stood on end, his eyes bulged in their sockets, his tongue stuck straight from between his black lips and sharpened incisors, and drool ran down his chin as he giggled maniacally and shoved the sickening stuff into his gullet. But we might be exaggerating the scene for melodramatic purposes. We should likewise note the little “joke” the Captain was fond of playing on his victims, in one instane, giving out a rolling pin and pie crust, and telling the poor girl to fill the tin with meat. When she said, increasingly nervously, that “Dear Captain, I see no meat,” he would then pounce upon her as he stared in the glass. Then, cutting the throat, he would…well, you know the rest.)
Finally, the twin, who had long spied on the Capatin, and did not for an instance like the fact that he filed his teeth to sharp points, or made jokes about “house-lamb,” was able to piece it all together. She conceived of a plan, a rather drastic one, in which she might avenge the death of her dear sister, and rid the world of the cannibal Captain once and for all.
She knocked one grey day on the Captain’s door, and presenting herself, finally confessed that she had always envied her sister, and would like to take the Captain for her own husband, now that her sister had so mysteriously vanished. The Captain was delighted with this prospect,a nd, as she left to draw up plans for the wedding, he went to his looking-glass and began to sharpen his teeth once again (didn’t this hurt?)
As he was doing this, the twin sister was watching at a chink in the wall. At seeing him sharpen his fangs, she conceived such a plan of revenge that it made her burst out in evil laughter, in spite of herself. The Captain, hearing this, and wondering where the source of the laughter was coming from, said to himself, “My! I hope nothing I have eaten has disagreed with me!”
Soon, the Captain was leading his new bride down the altar, past the double rows of strange flowers strewn on either side of the pathway. Once the wedding was over though, the Captain commenced with his strange jest of bringing out a golden rolling pin and golden pie tin, and telling the sister to get to work at once, “making a meat pie.”
As he said this, he held out his glass in front of her to view her face as she responded, “My dear Captain, I see no meat.”
It was then that he pounced upon her, slashing his throat with his great dagger, cutting off her head, disembowling her, salting the meat, and wrapping it all up in the pie tin to be sent to the baker. When he finally got his meat pie, he devoured it all, licking the pan clean with relish, and settling back, feeling contented and at ease with the world.
He soon began to feel ill-at-ease though, noting a strange rumbling and pain in his stomache. Unbeknownst to him, the dark twin had ingested a secret, rare poison before he devoured her in the pie, a poison whose effects would, most certainly, now be transferred to HIM, as he had eaten her flesh.
He began to swell, blowing up like a balloon. Soon, he was like a giant bag of bloody, gassy innards, expanding more and more until, finally, with a great roaring groan, he exploded all over the walls and ceiling of his dank little home, painting the walls scarlet with his blood and grue.
After that, he troubled no one anymore.
(Source: Retold from a story by Charles Dickens, published 1860.)