A 60's Memory Redux: Ruminations on Cannibalism, or the Threat Thereof

We've had a brief chat about this, once before. Seems I didn't quite get it all the way off my chest or something.

Way back in the mid 60's, I scared the hell out of the little boy across the street.

We had a large garden that was a popular play spot for the neighborhood kids. Most of the time I had a crowd of playmates. When it was time to come in, Ma always left it to me to clear out the revelers. Being basically well behaved kids, they all pissed off home after one prompt. All except the little tyke from across the street.

He was about 2 years younger, and quite uncooperative. All attempts at persuasion were met with sullen refusal. The one and only thing that effectively removed him from our property was the threat of being "eaten all up". For fuck's sake!

Here's a transcript of a typical exchange between us:

Young Taarzaan: It's time for you to go home now. You can come back tomorrow.

BratWurst: I don't have to!

YT:Yes, you do. Everyone else is already gone.

BW: I don't care. I don't wanna.

YT: I can't go in until you go home. It's time to eat, and I'm hungry. PLEASE go home!

BW: NO!!!

YT: If you don't go home, I'm going to eat you up.........

BW: Nuh-uh......

YT: Uh-huh!

BW: No you won't.

(Young Taarzaan holds his hands up parallel to ears, fingers curved into claws. Bares teeth, and begins walking towards BratWurst, gnashing teeth and growling.)

BW: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK!!!

(flees in terror)

It worked, every time. I always thought he'd catch on--put two and two together, as it were. No soap. He never learned to avoid the threat of being eaten by leaving appropriately. And at his stage of cognitive development, the threat of being eaten remained effective.

There was a hitch, however. The little tater tot started having nightmares about me eating him.

So there I was, all of maybe 6 years old, having a confrontation with Mrs. BratWurst. Her position was that I had to cease and desist from all cannibalistic threats. My position was that it was the only effective lever I had for removing her spawn from my garden, and that it was incumbent upon her to instill a respect for boundaries in her tender vittle. We utterly failed to see eye-to-eye. (She was a good two feet taller than me.)

I wonder about young niblet--did he grow up doubting his place on the food chain? Or did he introject the values of the aggressor, and become an oral aggressive personality? And is he still tender and juicy looking?