Saturday, September 21, 2013

FFF 17.2

I know, I know, I dropped the ball... yesterday turned out busier than expected, what with picking up my nephew from school and entertaining him until my sister was done work.

I did start reading him a new book... "Rasmus and the Vagabond", by Astrid Lindgren (same author of the "Pippi Longstocking" series) which may be a little too old for him still (my nephew is 6), and we played Lego for several hours, and since I'm still fighting off this cold, I was wiped when my sister finally came to pick him up.

Here we go, quickly written, unedited, and it may be worse than usual due to my foggy brain :)



The term ‘cut-throat’ isn’t an empty cliche when you see it happen in real life. One moment there’s life, then the skin peels open along the blade, a gush of blood bursts over your hands, and the heat and heartbeat evaporate in seconds. It’s fast, so fast you could fool yourself into thinking there was never life in the first place, but that’s what’s strange. 

Cut-throat usually means ruthless, or fierce, but when you see it happen, it’s the opposite. A quick and near-painless death, the blood pumping out before adrenaline can take control and crank the muscles into fight-or-flight hardness.

It’s messy though. 

A bullet would be neater, but I suppose cleaning up is part of this job as well.

But I’ll tell you one thing, after working as a butcher’s assistant, I’ve now turned vegetarian.

4 comments:

  1. "unedited" but no typos and just as good as always. Cleaning up is part of the job...naturally I didn't think of a butcher....
    Bernie's dad was a butcher by the way

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    1. you know I always gotta twist that ending ;)

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  2. Nice trickery on the reader :)

    Worked in a meat processing plant myself, briefly. After half a day I said, "I guess no one is a Vegetarian, then?"

    The interesting part is how the inspector was held in nigh-mortal terror by the workers and the owner was always showing the inspector about personally etc.

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    1. Yeah, I don't think I could do it... even though I did grow up next to a farm and would often see *dinner* hanging off the side of the barn, blood draining...

      Would be fun to write a story about that inspector ;) ...I wonder WHY everyone was in mortal terror...?

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Type me out a line of Shakespeare or a line of nonsense. Dumb-blonde-jokes & Irish jokes will make me laugh myself silly :)