The entertainments were flexible and nubile, the wine was a great vintage, the music only the latest fancy from the village's leading bard in these circles. the party was already being hailed as the success of the season. But it was the food that had everyone's tongues wagging. a variety of strange and succulent plants, monsters, and of course the ever present girlmeats. The crowning culinary achievement was an installation of three suckling bitches fresh out of the roasting pit and posed with their legs and arms outstretched invitingly, and the foremost one was holding out a bowl of the hosts favourite desert, chilled girl-brain sorbet. The theme was obviously life and death in cycle (a popular one in village sermons). They had the mother, the maiden and the woman all represented in their very real death. Their skin was a flawless appetising brown of the same shade and their differing breast sizes gave the guests plenty of diversity and choice.
The host of the party tapped his fork against his goblet and called for quiet. The four friend's bodies were now offered up as tasty tributes to their host.
"I'd like to make a toast... To good food, good friends, good wine, good times, good loincloths, good harvests and good harems... Now, by good god let's eat!"