Its something that comes almost naturally, without any real effort on my part at some part of the week or when this urge comes a-calling, even without any prior information.
And then the legs do their number without even asking the Command Center for directions, it just knows what to do.
A few crisp words,a satisfied grunt ,a careful eye later,there is a screech,a mute look of agony and the insane will to drink all of the world in the next few seconds in the suspecting victim's eyes.
The soft snap as the main cartilages are twisted and some are broken..
The swish of the rubber apron,the whirring of machinery,the dank smell of perspiration,moldy and sticky and the overbearing smell of death..
The clammy,metallic odour that hangs like a miasma around the killing floor,and the occasional thump and whimper of the few struggling to keep themselves a step away from the Final Release.
I chose ,or rather pretend not to hear the thud, and the wheezy start of the machinery..
Instead,with the careful deliberation that comes hand in hand with urban living,I painfully concentrate on the days newspaper headlines,lying face up on the floor,half torn from the callous indifference of a former partner in this business of Murder.
And the rest of them wait their turn,listening to the wails and screeches and mute pleas of agony,in the stifling meshes,smelling their kind tossed around in the steamy machinery,and the dark foreboding that comes with a slowly dawning realization.
The familiar black package is on the counter,warm and soft, a reminder of another life, brought into this world for death.
I have decided.
This just doesn't bode right with me.
I felt the time had come to give my indecisiveness a final push,into the Big Yonder.
Now,it just feels right.
And my friendly neighborhood chicken and meat seller just lost another customer.