Anyway. Foecal fat. It's got the good stuff in it. See, there's good fat and bad fat. That foecal fat, it's the good stuff. It's got all those nice rich liver-processed essential dietary requirements in it. It's, whatchacall, life extension. Keeps you young. And fit. You have to kinda scrape it and distill it, you know.
And drinking it's a bitch.
You'd think it'd mix with orange juice or something, but it all kind of seperates out, and you get this lid of foecal fat if you leave the glass for too long. You have to chew it up before it goes down.
I tried getting a whisk in there, and using the orange juice with the pulpy bits in, but...
No, the children don't like it. Sometimes little Josh has to have some of my sleeping pills crushed up on his toast first. But he'll learn. He's only five, after all. I mean, nobody likes it. My husband hated it. Truth to tell, I think he hated the trips out at night to buy the bodies. He was cheap and he resented missing the football. Oh, that's not what he said. Of course it wasn't. But, you know, I said to him, nobody likes scraping the foecal fat out of the colons of dead people and drinking it.
But who wants to get old?
(from Warren Ellis' BAD SIGNAL, Thu, 9 Jan 2003 17:40:27 EST)