[ CW ] Start writing a story with these words : `` At first it was shocking , but then it became normal . ''

`` At first it was shocking, but then it became normal'', my grandmother paused briefly to take a sip of wine. `` When we began to consider other people a worthwhile food source.'' 
 
 I looked down at my plate. Now, at twelve years old, I thought nothing of the squares of flavored meat on my plate. The dark brown one was most likely shipped from Africa, or perhaps a Southeast Asian country. The yellow one was most definitely Chinese, to be sure. I cut off a piece of the yellow meat with my steak knife, brought the loaded fork to my mouth, and chewed slowly, savoring the flavor. I loved how grandma prepared the meat with garlic and spices. 
 
 No one could prepare two-legged cow quite like grandma. 
 
 `` When the overpopulation crisis of 2051 hit, I was just a girl,'' she continued. I had heard the story before, but I let her speak -- she was feeding me, after all. `` People were starving, and there just was n't enough food to go around. My youngest sister had just died from malnutrition, and my mother was extremely weak. People were starving to death left and right when the world's governments re-examined a food source that used to be considered taboo.'' 
 
 She daintily picked up a piece of yellow meat, and plopped it in her mouth. I saw her chewing as she went on. I was about to remark that it was rude to talk with one's mouth full, then remembered that this was my grandmother, after all. So, I cut another forkful of food, and kept eating. 
 
 `` Originally, governments outwardly forbade two-legged cow. But as more and more people began killing one another to survive, they realized that, rather than fighting their own populations -- and possibly weaken their military and civilian work forces -- it was wiser to regulate what people were already doing.'' She paused, looked out the window, and had what mother called'the thousand-yard stare' -- that look she got whenever she got to this part of the story. 
 
 `` It was good that the government realized what we were doing, and gave us rules. Because before regulations, you did n't go out at night, alone. My father... your great-grandfather, Charles... he did n't come home one morning after his night shift at the factory... we found pieces of him the next day...'' The tears came, like they always did. I put my fork down, and put my hand on hers. 
 
 She blinked, smiled, and looked at me. The thousand-yard stare was gone, and I went back to eating. 
 
 Grandma dabbed her eyes with a napkin before continuing. `` The countries that had the largest populations were the ones that were the most eager to export'The New Meat', as they called it. Sure, we call it two-legged cow now, but let me tell you, Charles -- real cow tasted *much* better than what you're eating. It's too bad you'll never know the taste of prime rib, or a T-bone steak.'' 
 
 `` I think you cook it just fine, grandma.'' I replied. `` It's delicious!'' I happily snapped up another bite; this time, it was a brown piece. I smiled, because she liked it when I smiled. I wanted to drive her sadness away from the bad memories she had. 
 
 She smiled at me again. `` So, the trade of The New Meat was regulated, and the places that had the largest populations were the most eager to sell and export: Africa, China, followed by Russia. Little by little, the food crisis became balanced by the fact that we had more food to eat as people died.'' 
 
 `` And Mom and Dad were among the first to develop modern methods of safely sterilizing two-legged cow for human consumption.'' I replied. 
 
 `` Well, they were n't your mother and father yet, but they met while doing research. Because before then, you had to do your best to trust your sources, and do what you could to sterilize the meat at home. Because sometimes foreign countries... well, they got meat from places that were n't safe: disease wards, morgues, and so on. Almost no one bought meat from Africa when so many people got sick the first few times.'' 
 
 I wanted to reply that I learned about that in school, but Grandma was telling me a story that was important to her. I took another bite of meat, and briefly looked down. My plate was almost empty. 
 
 `` So, your mother and father developed the Hagen-Smith Process of New Meat Sterilization. Since then, almost no one has died from two-legged cow food.'' 
 
 I finished my last forkful, the meat juices and garlic-and-spice flavor filling my mouth. If grandma was right, and cow was better than this, then it was sad to think that there were no more cows. They must have been so tasty! 
 
 `` So, Charles Hagen-Smith'', she said my whole name -- this meant something important ( at least, important to me ), was about to happen. She smiled again, all traces of her brief bout with sadness, gone. `` What would you like for dessert?'' 
 
 `` Ice cream!'' I said. I loved the taste of ice cream. To me, ice cream was definitely important! 
 
 `` Okay!'' she said happily, and took my hand to lead me to the kitchen. `` And let me tell you, this stuff is nothing like what **real** ice cream used to taste like...''
