Home > Musings of a Decorative Ham Man > Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

Chris Vitiello

By Chris Vitiello

It is my custom to eat alone and quite late at night. I have a small kitchen table– enough room for only two (though it is only ever one) and it is here that I first prepare the custom Vitiello Decorative Ham for gazing purposes. This composition takes one hour.

When it is placed precisely at the corner and tilted at a 20-degree angle, I commence with cooking. I require only two pots but they are of the finest quality, imported directly from distant Lankvillian outposts. I make a spare meal of one slice of water-boiled specialized meat chuck, one LaRette potato (chosen for its silkiness) and one spoonful of field sprouts.

It was with these gastronomic endeavors that I was engaged when I suddenly heard the outer gate alarm ring. I glanced at the monitor. Indeed, it appeared that two prowlers had entered the confines. I lowered the flame on the pots and made my way quietly to the great room. I extinguished the dim lighting, made my way along the glass-encased decorative hams that adorn the outer wall and entered the study. Here, I selected two whips.

By now they were within the inner gate. I realized then that these two miscreants had made some sort of a deal with Hartenstein, the oafish night watchman.  He will be arrested I thought but not before he is whipped mercilessly.   And with that in mind, I selected a third whip– this with a quirt at the end of the romal.

The quirt at the end of the romal.

The quirt at the end of the romal.

By now, they had entered the lobby. “The hams are in the room on the left,” I heard Hartenstein whisper. A flashlight beam went close to me as I ducked behind a plush leather chair. “Are you sure they are worth anything?” one of the miscreants asked. “Are you kidding?” Hartenstein replied, no longer whispering. “Those are prototypes. They’re priceless.”

All three were now fumbling with the lock as per my design. It is an overly-complicated lock– I submitted the plans myself. I recall standing over the locksmith Backmiller, a doddering coot who operated a shop nearby. “I can’t figure it out at all,” he kept saying, as he stared hopelessly at my drawings. “That is precisely the point, Backmiller,” I replied, my hand on the very same whip that I would soon use on Hartenstein.

I now took pleasure in watching the trio of brainless buffoons fumble with my lock, all three whips at the ready, as I creeped along the carpet. “The glass, I can’t break it,” one of the miscreants said, as he hopelessly pounded on what was indeed, not glass at all, but a special transparent solid developed by mistake at the factory for the purpose of coating decorative hams. “We better get out of here,” the other said but Hartenstein demurred. “We gotta’ to be able to break this– it…it can’t be.”

“It can indeed, Hartenstein,” I said, calmly raising myself from the floor. “And now I would like you to tell these boys what will happen.”

I don’t recall the interval between the moment the heist was exposed and the moment the police arrived. It may have been five minutes, it may have been an hour. I do know that my dinner was perfectly cooked by the time I got back to it and that three lovely whips were broken in the process.

The next day, I dispensed with having a watchman and merely added a third and fourth exterior gate.


Chris Vitiello is the founder of Vitiello Decorative Hams.

  1. Mikhail Goberman
    June 5, 2014 at 12:25 pm

    Dude that’s fucking ridiculous!

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