Meet Your Meat

Meet Your Meat

A Story by Jethro
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First story posted. An account of a meal. Possible offensive to sensitive readers.

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I sit there as she dances and wiggles above my face. Her body swaying back and forth, up and down against the pole. Her feet in golden heels too high. Slightly bored, I light up a cigarette because I quit three years ago and take a long, slow, tar-filled drag and blow it out through a smile up at her. Her vagina hangs like some exotic fruit from a flesh covered limb. I take another drag of my Lucky Strike and put it out on the back of her knee as I stand and re-fasten my belt. She giggles and holds out a hand for a tip. I hand her a wrinkled business card for a barbecue stand down the street and walk towards the door.

“Excuse me, Mister, but I think I ought to tell you that you're dragging a fetus behind you. It's stuck on your shoe.” says a vagrant politician while pointing at the bloody mess I have stuck to my heel like a piece of toilet paper. I remove a credit card from my eel skin wallet and scrape the mess away like you would scrape away a piece of chewed gum picked up from a parking lot. I slide the credit card into the politicians chest pocket.

“Keep the change,” I say and walk out of the club without another word.

I decide that a bite to eat would be most wonderful after the stripper and appetizing, yet grit covered fetus. Steak seems like a perfect solution to my steadily growing hunger problem and I leave the neon lit entrance to the strip club heading for the Meet Your Meat restaurant just a few blocks away. I leave a few nicely wrapped nail bombs on the doorstep of every church and orphanage I pass along the way. They make such nice gifts for the clergy and children, I do so hope they enjoy them.

When I reach Meet Your Meat I stand in line to speak with the beautiful hostess. As I get closer to her I notice she has a little line of stitches across her right cheek. There is only a little bit of milky white fluid secreting from her cheek, like semen from a poorly aimed pearl necklace. When I reach the front of the line she tells me that there is of course no wait for me and I thank her generously and lick the secretion from her face. She leads me to my table; I walk behind her unable to remove my eyes from the a*s-less pants shes wearing as she walks seductively to the best table in the restaurant.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she says while exposing her left n****e and pinching it with a smile.

What a nice young lady I think to myself as a take a seat and notice my surroundings. The restaurant is a very classy place with candle lit tables and wonderful tablecloths and napkins, each lovingly made by the tiny hands of some third world child laborer. In the center of the building is a large stable with several cows, goats, sheep, chickens, land-squids, and children inside. Each in its own special stall. I set my sights on a simply gorgeous Black Angus cow and decide that it is him that I would like to eat tonight.

        I look to my right to see a gay couple feasting on a small Namibian boy carved like a turkey on a large platter, while giving each other hand jobs under the table. The Namibian boy seems to be covered with a peach and vinaigrette sauce and he uses his remaining arm to baste himself from the pool of sauce collected in his serving dish. To my left is an enormously obese nude woman dining on live baby chickens with fish roe. She is eating them voraciously and with such passion that her eyes seem to roll back as she crunches down on the feathers and tiny bones. I feel almost jealous that I never have such passion as that.

“Hello, Sir, my name is Jerome and I will be your waiter tonight. Have you looked over the menu? Would you like to hear our specials?”

I look up to see a rather stocky man with a full but well trimmed beard on the left side of his face and shining blue and silver fish scales on the right. He appears to have a glass eye that stares blankly in the wrong direction . He is wearing a nice black tuxedo with nearly invisible pinstripes running vertically down to his brown open toed Birkenstock sandals.

“I would like a steak tonight,” I say while standing. I walk directly over the the Black Angus and stroke it gently between its dark eyes, its short black hair shines with an almost polished finish. It looks up at me sweetly and my mouth starts to water.

“I don't care which cut. Surprise me.” I say, unable to remove my lusting eyes from the cow.

“Will that be all for you tonight sir? Anything to drink?”

“A nice chilled glass of your finest urine, would be fine. A spring salad as well, but no cucumbers. I hate cucumbers.”

“Of course sir. Your meal will be right out,” Jerome the waiter assures me as he pulls a 12 gauge Mossberg shotgun from the pocket of his tuxedo Jacket. He inserts a slug cartridge and places the barrel between the two dark lovely eyes of the cow and pulls the trigger. A beautiful fireworks display of blood and tiny bits of brain and skull fragments erupts from what used to be the cows head showering us both. I don't mind, it's the reason I came here. Its part of the experience. Oh how I do love this place!!!

I return to my table and start on the spring salad and chilled urine which are miraculously there before I can sit down. It doesn't taste like it is actually their finest but I don't feel like making any complaint. I don't want any interruption before my steak gets here. I wait patiently and watch as the mutual hand job giving gay couple seems to reach an simultaneous orgasm, squealing in delight, as the Namibian boy takes his final breath. I have always wondered how they managed to do it simultaneously, maybe its pheromones.

My steak arrives and I am at a loss of words. It must be at least 2 inches thick and hangs off the edges of the plate dripping blood and juices onto the handmade tablecloths. It is cooked just to my liking, seared to nearly black on the outside while still fleshy and bloody on the inside. I don't bother with a knife and fork. I grab the steak with my left hand and slide my right into my pants and start pumping away. The obese woman to my left is staring me down with bright orange fish roe all over her face. It doesn't bother me in the least. This steak is delicious.

© 2009 Jethro


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Interesting. o.0

Posted 10 Years Ago


And they said Burroughs was dead. This is Naked Dinner.

Posted 10 Years Ago


0 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on February 11, 2009

Author

Jethro
Jethro

Cedartown, GA



About
I dont write enough. I am working on that. I live in Georgia and I am attending Georgia Highlands College. I want to double major in Journalism and Computer Science. I love the obscure and the obsc.. more..