Steaks Alive!

The steak looked so delicious as it sat there on his plate. He stared at it almost lustfully, fork grasped firmly in left, knife grasped firmly in right. His fists were clinched as his hands glided side by side, together, toward the meat. He could feel the saliva building up on his tongue, the smell of the porterhouse, rich with black pepper wafted to his nose. It was a moment of great expectation. He repositioned his fingers. Left index stretched down the fork. Right index stretched down along the back side of the knife. He stabbed into the ribeye portion first. He thought he heard a grunt. "What the...?" he thought to himself. "Oh, well, must be someone at another table." He then slid the knife slowly across the top of the ribeye, not too much pressure, allowing the serrated blade to do its work. As the knife scraped its way over the meat, however, he heard a scream. He immediately pulled both hands away from the steak and leaned forward, his head slightly bouncing up and down in dismay and disbelief as his eyes bulged from his face looking intently at the steak.
He then stabbed curiously with his fork at the filet side of the porterhouse wondering if he would elicit a similar response from that portion of the meat. Nothing. He then went in with knife again, prodding the rib eye. Another scream. "What on earth!" He began to get embarrassed. People from other tables were turning their heads looking over at him to see what was wrong. He could see some of the older people leaning in and whispering at each other. A couple of kids giggled. It was bad enough as it was eating alone. He hated eating alone in a public restaurant. But, he loved a good porterhouse more than he hated eating alone.
Starting to believe that the ribeye was somehow alive, or at least a sentient being, he was still not to be denied his pleasure. He went to work on the filet. This kind of bugged him. It was his habit to start on the ribeye and then go back and forth. But, the ribeye wouldn't cooperate with him, so what could he do! He worked his way no problem through the filet. He enjoyed it, but not in his usual manner. Oh well! He liked the flavor of a ribeye more and it was good to save the best part for last.
As he decided to return to work on the ribeye, he held the knife and fork in hand and glanced to his left and to his right, like somebody about to commit a crime. He slowly moved toward the steak. He plunged in; prod with the fork, cut with the knife. Nothing. "Hmm...okay." He cut a piece. He placed it gingerly in his mouth, as if he was engaged in some sort of strange act of cannibalism. He began to chew. He heard merciless screaming and wailing as he chewed that poor piece of rib eye. All eyes in the restaurant were now on him. He stopped chewing. He didn't swallow the meat. The screaming stopped. The manager approached his table. "Sir is there something wrong?" "Yes, there is. Try my rib eye." The manager felt awkward but he tried the steak. He prodded, he cut and he chewed. Nothing. The man didn't know what to do. "The steak was screaming!" he said. "It wasn't me!" He would have thought he was going insane himself if the whole restaurant hadn't heard it as well. "Look, I'll try it in front of you." The manager stood there, watching, now embarrassed himself for this crazy man. Prod, cut, chew, swallow. Nothing. No noise. No screams. Nothing. He now asked the manager to please sit with him as he finished the steak. The manager uncomfortably obliged. He finished his steak, quietly. He paid his bill, left a tip and headed out the door. Walking toward his car, he could hear muffled screams coming from his stomach.