Short Story 1: Unicorn Pie

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“Unicorn Pie, what on earth is that?” the guests wondered when they looked at the menu for the banquet celebrating the end of the hunt; each type of game found on the Prince’s estate was represented there, but the phrase “Unicorn Pie” was placed proudly at the top in elegant script, signifying the climax of the feast.

“I killed the thing myself,” the Prince bragged, “The first unicorn to be seen in these parts in five hundred years.”

“I thought you had to be a pure hearted virgin to catch a unicorn” the Marquis asked.

“I thought that unicorns didn’t even exist,” the Duchess joined in.

The pie itself was a thing of beauty to behold; an intricate hunting scene was depicted on a puff pastry structure as big as an ottoman.  It took four footman to carry it out on a giant silver platter. A slice the size of a shovel was placed on each of their plates.

It smelt intoxicating and tasted every bit as delicious. First they broke through a flakey, buttery crust and then tasted the unicorn meat, flavored with the finest fruits and spices. Unicorn meat had roughly the consistency of beef but it had the golden brown color of chicken when roasted to perfection.

“So, what do you all think of my pièce de la résistance?” the Prince asked his guests.

The guests declared it the most delicious thing they had ever tasted. All pretense of good manners was quickly disposed of: the guests fell in upon the pie like a pack of ravenous hogs. It sat heavily in their stomachs, as rich foods will do, but it tasted too delectable to stop eating.  Their bellies seemed to swell and their clothes began to feel tight around their waists. The bloating and nausea, which are often the effect of overeating, quickly set in. A chorus of thunderous belches filled the night.

“The beast found its way into my forest,” the Prince continued, still gorging himself like a hog, “It was taking a drink from the stream with its foal, a colt. I snuck up upon on it and fired my arrow; it writhed and groaned for a good ten minutes before it died. The foal is now in my menagerie; I’ll take you all to see it tomorrow.”

“Sounds charming,” the Duchess responded, wiping a beard of sauce off of her chin and dusting crumbs from her bosom “It’ll be a girlhood dream of mine come true.”

“I hope to find a female and mate them together. Breeding unicorns should be quite profitable,” the Prince let out a booming burp.

“Will you excuse me, please,” the Marquis burst in.

He got up and left the table, looking green faced.

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