Holy fuck.

So I went to this quaker semester school thing back in high school. This happened about four years ago or so.

My roommate and I got along pretty well back then. We were both into music and ended up sharing a lot of stuff that year...both good and bad. Anyway, that's irrelevant to the story.

For thanksgiving break, I left the school and went back to visit with my parents, as is custom. My friend, let's call him G, was kind of a little shit towards his parents, despite them being really nice and accommodating toward him. So he decided to spend thanksgiving with a quaker host family who let him and another student or two stay with them over the break. So what you're about to read is what G told me upon my return to school.

And this is where things get weird. When it came time for thanksgiving dinner itself, all of the normal dishes were being served, even with vegetarian alternatives in case you were so inclined (remember, they're quaker). Everything appeared as though it were to be another ordinary thanksgiving. I mean, as ordinary as thanksgiving gets with a bunch of quakers. Shit can get crazy with them. One time I was over at this quaker's house who works for chevron, and the guy had a fucking firing range in his backyard where we casually sat sipping scotch and shooting a .30-06 from his back porch. I mean, that was totally fucking contrary to what quakers believe but there he was, board member of more than one charitable organizations, shooting high-caliber ammunition and getting drunk with a minor. But I digress. So, at the end of all of these dishes, the mother brought in a plate with a strange looking meat plopped right on top of it. G thought it was beef liver or something which he hasn't ever had before.

G asked them, "so, uh, can someone pass me the liver? I've never tried that before?" G had no idea. The father of the house, we'll call him Dick, Dick's eyes beamed with a radiance that one only notices in the eyes of a newly made father. So, beaming radiant orbs, and he began to explain to G what the fuck was on the plate in the center of the table.

"Why, that's my daughter-in-laws placenta, G, and I'd be honored if you tried some," Dick said, gleaming at G, looking like he expected G to cry at such a beautiful proposition.

Now, I guess this is where G got a little fuzzy because I don't remember exactly what happened next. G told me he tried a few bites of the placenta, concluding that it tasted very plain and ordinary, which was surprising of course, because of what would end up being the conclusion of what I will now call, "placentagiving". But then things took a turn for the worse when the rest of the evening was spent with in depth discussion of placentophagy, cannibalism, and some sort of anthropological cross section which, at the end of the night, concluded awe inspiring tragedy.

Not one, not two, but three people blew chunks that night. I'm told that the turkey intermingled with the green beans with just the right amount of placenta, generating an intriguing but absolutely disgusting substance covering the entire length of the table. I wish I knew more of what lead to this great and perpetual mountain of projectile vomit, but what I do know is that it started with a quaker girl and ended with G puking his brains out into Dick's lap.

And thus concluded placentagiving.

Although, I think that I should add an interesting bit of information for those of you that have made it this far. G has never missed a single thanksgiving dinner with his family since placentagiving. Was it the vomit? Was it the placenta? Or was it the existentialism he faced in response to the obscenity of that strange and fateful night? Who fucking knows.