For a Moment I was Meat
Freud was on a train in an overnight sleeper and stepped out into the corridor to enjoy a cigar. He returned to his compartment, opened the door then reeled back in terror. A stooped, bearded man was advancing on him from within the compartment. Freud threw up his hands defensively and in the same instant the stranger began to gesture threateningly. Freud then realised that he was looking at a mirror mounted on the wall of the sleeping car.
This morning I decided to place the garlic press in its drawer. I glanced down at the brushed metal device and started. The press was full of meat. I realised that the barrel of the press, which is removable to facilitate rinsing, had been removed. I was looking at the palm of my own hand.