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Tale of the Missing Liver

Carrie, Arizona, USA

This is a story which everyone and their brother swears happened to a friend or a friend of a friend. It has a few variations, but this is the one that I always knew as true.

There once was this married couple. Let’s call the husband George and the wife Mary. Now George and Mary didn’t exactly have a story-book marriage. George was lazy (but claimed to be hard working) and very abusive to his wife. Mary was a very small and timid woman who took every bit of abuse from her husband. One thing about George that Mary didn’t mind was his insatiable appetite. She loved to cook, especially for those who appreciated it. And what can I say? The man adored eating, in fact he downright loved it. So everyday George would come home from work and eat the dinner that Mary had prepared for him. His favorite meal of all time was liver and onions, a dish that Mary was especially skilled in cooking.

One morning before leaving for work George told (more like ordered) Mary that he was going to want liver and onions for dinner. She, of course, obliged to his command and fitted making a stop at the market into her list of errands.

That afternoon she stopped at the butcher counter at the market and picked up a pound of the freshest finest liver she could find. She made her way home and began to cook the liver. By the time she had finished (it cooked much faster than usual...this liver was especially good) the smell had heavily permeated the kitchen. Unable to resist the temptation, Mary took a small bite of the liver. Absolutely heavenly! This was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted! Before she knew it, she had devoured the whole thing. Panic then began to set in, George would be home soon and she didn’t have the money for more liver!

She left the house to rush back to the market, hoping the butcher would maybe take pity on her and allow her to use credit instead of cash.

On her way there she passed by a funeral home which was having an open casket viewing that day. That gave her an idea. Mary walked in and noticed that the room was completely empty, save her and the corpse. She quickly dug her small pocket knife out of her purse which she carried for protection and set to work. Heart racing, Mary extracted the dead man’s liver and concealed it under her coat as she raced out of the funeral home. She walked quickly back to her home with the liver and began to cook it immediately. The smell again permeated the kitchen, and this time it smelled twice as good. Knowing it came from a human, Mary resisted tasting it.

George came home just in time for Mary to finish cooking the liver and onions. He tore into the dish, making grunting noises as he shoveled the food into his mouth at a disgusting rate of speed. It wasn’t until he had finished that he exclaimed to Mary the superb quality of the meal. As mean and abusive as George was, he always gave Mary credit for her culinary skill.

That night as Mary lay in bed, George snoring loudly next to her, she thought she could faintly hear "who’s gooootttt myyyyy liiiiiverrrrrr?" whoooo’s goooottttt myyyyy liiiiverrrrr?" She dismissed the thought and closed her eyes to try and sleep. About 15 minutes later she heard a little bit louder "whoooo’s gooottttt myyyy liiiveerrrr? Giiiiive meeee baaacck myyyy liiiverrrr!" Gripping the sheets, she closed her eyes tightly, the fear raising in the pit of her stomach. About another 15 minutes went by and she heard it again, this time is sounded like it was coming from outside of the house. Ten minutes went by, and she heard it yet again. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. *THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP* Mary heard footsteps on the stairs. George was still snoring away loudly. The door creaked open and Mary heard whispered in her ear "you’ve got my liver, and I want it back!" The fear that gripped Mary lifted and she was able to point at the sleeping George and exclaim "I DON’T HAVE YOUR LIVER! HE HAS IT!!!"

The only sound then was the one of George’s scream.

Another Version:
THE GOLDEN ARM
It starts out with this old lady and her husband. The lady had a golden arm. She was very sick and she knew that she was going to die. She told her husband that when she died she wanted to be buried with her golden arm and her husband said "ok honey I promise".

The next day came and the lady was still alive and again she told her husband " when I die I want to be buried with my golden arm" and again her husband said "okhoney I promise". The next day came and the lady was still alive and again she told herhusband " when I die I want to buried with my golden arm" and the husband said "ok honey Ipromise". The day after that the lady died.
Her husband buried her with her golden arm like she had asked him.

After she was buried the husband thought to himself "I can get a lot of money from selling my wife’s golden arm" so that night the husband went to his wife’s grave and dug up his wife’s golden arm. The husband went home with his wife’s golden arm. Before going to bed he lay the golden arm on his desk. He suddenly had a nasty thought that someone might see it in the nearby window and break into the house and steal it so he decided it would be better off in the bed with him, safe and warm.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep he heard something say "I want my golden arm". He woke up with a start, thought he’d imagined it and went back to sleep. That same night he heard it again " I want my golden arm" and again he didn’t think anything of it so he went back to sleep. That same night he heard it again " I want my golden arm" but this time it sounded like it was in the house. He heard it again "I want my golden arm" he heard it coming up the stairs "I want my golden arm". It finally got to his bedroom and he saw theghost of his died wife she said "I want my golden arm" he didn’t want to give the golden armaway but she kept saying "I want my golden arm". His wife had a knife in her other hand andshe said "I want my golden arm" he again didn’t want to give the arm up so his wife killedhim and she finally got her golden arm back.

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