The Devil is a carnivore, if you say it out loud it seems obvious. He, Lucifer (and yes, he is a he) is not a refined carnivore. That’s not to say he doesn’t desire quality butchering, rather he has no moral compass in the type of meats he eats.
He has none of our moral hangups in the origin of his flesh, his tastes are completely devoid of our social constraints.
Pig, Sheep, Priest, to him, they are all Gods creatures and should be devoured with indistinguishable joy.
Some say its the only time the Devil smiles.
Hell is a labyrinth of corridors, winding and unending. If you begin your journey on the right path and follow it’s trail to the end, you’ll come across a door with the words “Boucher” scrawled across it.
Behind this door you’ll meet a refined gentleman. An artist who has been plying his trade for a millennia, since the fallen Angel Lucifer was cast from the heavens.
He is known simply as “Mr Clapet.” No one knows whence he came, or where he trained. But his taste is impeccable, his service unending and his skills with a Granton knife, unsurpassed.
Legend has it he greeted Lucifer at the door, with a Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand Cru and has been his personal Valet, Sommelier and Butcher ever since.
He is Lucifer’s preferred butcher. An appointment gained by choice or circumstance? Immaterial. Its simply a relationship that works.
Mr Clapet has won the Grand Prix d’Honneur four times and as sommelier has won the Gold at the Sommelier Wine awards six times.
He’s demonically good at his job.
A short story by Buki Koshoni