BAD MEATS

It was supposed to be one of the most special evenings of our lives, our twentieth anniversary. Can you believe that? Me and Lucille have been together, hand in hand for over two decades now. I had planned everything, made sure it was perfect. Our anniversary is on October seventeenth, however, Lucille’s birthday is the following day, the eighteenth. It had always placed a certain level of pressure on the situation. Like a family who’s only child was born on Christmas Day… a lot of presents and attention paid to the special one. Tonight should have been no different from any of the others we’ve had, besides possibly being even better. Even more perfect. 

I made the drive from the plant as soon as I could, even though Mr. Newsom held me fifteen minutes after my shift. And of course the old Pontiac did its best to keep me from being on time too, dying damn near ever time I stopped. Had to run the stop sign down on Overcook and Cambridge. I apologize for that. To get back on track, I went home, showered off all the grime and smell that came with the twelve hour shift. Luce’ has always hated the smell of those disinfectants we use to clear the blood from the racks, and the blood itself. Even though the plant requires us to be completely covered, looking like human trash bags, the smells still seep into your pours. It mixes into the air particles and water vapor around you, before settling and sticking to your skin. Thankfully, I had a few hours before the mill let her off a bit before six, which is when she’s technically off. 

Even if the wash and cologne didn’t work, I still had an ace up my sleeve. A twelve carat gold tennis bracelet and necklace set. They were beautiful— No, gorgeous. I had gone down to the mall over in Harrisburg just to get it, and I hardly ever even talked about the town since I stopped driving the routes for the plant, let alone drove the hour just to get there. 

I had everything in the car and ready by half hour till, which gave me just enough time to get to the mill for when Luce came out in that pretty blouse she loves to wear on special occasions. Her arms were full of gifts from her coworkers celebrating her last day before her long weekend. The mill is on just outside the south end of town, which already put us twenty minutes towards Harrisburg. The drive was nearly perfect, us reminiscing on all the times we’ve had, the kids, how great but lonely its been since they’ve all been away. By the time we got into town I was almost tearing at my own insides with how much I wanted to tell Luce where we were going. But I held it all the way until the parking lot, and there we were, the Warui Niku Hibachi Grill. 

Her smile lit up just as much as the neon sign out front. The red lettering bounced right off her pearly white teeth and shiny hair. We never did have much, neither Lucille or I, growing up or now. And she’s always told me about this place, wanting to go, the rave reviews by countless folks. She showed me one from a man who had on a bolo hat in his online photo, who said the beef was “life changing.” Well I didn’t quite think it would be that good, but the quote always did stick with me. But Luce and I never did wind up coming here. We’ve always lived paycheck to paycheck, with a little extra in the coffee can bank at home, which is why I’ve always found it so amazing she keeps that hair so shiny. Well tonight was the night we had finally made it. We went in, were greeted by a handsome young man with a fun accent. That’s one of the best parts of going to places like that, ya know? Everything about it, the art on the walls, the statues, the food, even the people working there. It all feels like its from a different world, or at least somewhere a whole lot farther that sixty miles north of Silverton. 

We were seated at some big grill with a family of other folks. They had been there many times, I could already tell by how they looked at our confusion. A husband, wife, and a couple kids. Three I think? Well, just as we started getting to know each other, the chef came out. He came out with a couple flathead spatulas, flipping and tossing eggs about. He made rice with it too. Felt like the time when I was in my twenties and saw a street magician in New Orleans. Magic happening right before my eyes. He was juggling foods I often dropped and cracked just trying to get out of the bag. But then… See, I had never been to any restaurant like this, and I wasn’t like Luce’ always looking up photos and videos on the web. But… What happened next wasn’t correct, father. And I don’t mean by standards of our cooking compared to them…

The first thing I noticed that felt off was when I was scanning the room. Just looking about as the folks around me talked to Luce about their jobs. I noticed someone. The man with the bolo hat. The same man I had seen in the photo Luce had shown me many months ago. Then the chef began cooking the real prize of the night, the beef. It looked fantastic, and Luce’ also thought so. Or at least the shine in her eyes and the “oo’s and aa’s” seemed to say so. The moment it hit the grill was when I knew something was off— I had smelled that smell before, and not from a good place. I knew it from a memory, the reason I stopped hauling our beef up to the city. 

I’ve never told this story before, not even to Lucille. Nobody. But one night, the fog and snow was so bad I had near zero visibility. But back in the day, they didn’t have weather and mile checkers like they do now. So the quicker you hauled your 500 miles, the quicker you were home in your own bed. That night, half my truck load was going to Harrisburg’s distribution facility, which would eventually be going to the different grocery stores and restaurants around the town. But I didn’t make it to Harris. As I was driving, at the very last second, through the pitch grey deadness of the outside, I saw a car cross the yellows into oncoming traffic, aiming right for me. I hit the breaks and pulled the truck the best I could. I was young and had no idea what I was doing at the time. The truck tipped, flipped over onto its side. Through my head right into the windshield. Knocked me out cold and left a nasty scar that had me bleeding down the side of my face like a fountain. After God knows how long I woke up, crawled out from the cab. As soon as I made it out, I saw the fire building up at my tanks, and the half-destroyed car lodged into them. About as soon as I gathered my senses to sprint away, the whole rig went up. I didn’t see the explosion, but I saw the orange and yellow glow bounce off the entire snowy sky in front of me as I went down. I went out again. 

I woke to the most disturbingly guttural screaming that has ever pierced my ears. I looked up to see the entire rig engulfed inflames, and stared into its splintered, burning metal before me, until I saw something else. Something so horrific I don’t know if I can even describe it correctly, if at all. It was a growing, mucus like creature, held together by fibrous muscles, thin tendon lines, and stretching fat particles. It was the meat. The frozen beef that had been cut down, packed, and placed into this truck. With a putrid smell like pig feces and old fish guts. It was in pain I think, screaming as it struggled out from the burning truck, sliming and bubbling down from the heat. Its mouth and body nothing more than threads of muscle and fat, congealing together as the heat cooked it. The sound of the constant searing of the creature’s skin mixed in with its screams filled the area, leaving it constantly echoing back to me. Like an orchestra of death.

The thousand pound creature lurched out from the truck, slamming down and caving in the hood of the burning car. It was at that moment the worst thing that I had ever witnessed happened. There was a woman, still alive, in the driver seat of the car. But I wasn’t the only one to notice her. The creatures weight, as if it had pushed it, or just sunken in, shattered through what was left of the windshield, before it completely engulfed her. Her screams fusing with the creature’s, just as her skin was. I could do nothing but sit in terror as I watched her bloodshot eyes and single threads of hair becoming its own. The muscle fibers and congealing fat consuming her until her screams, and she, became one with it. 

Thankfully, that didn’t happen at the Hibachi grill. I blinked out of my daze, and at the very least, attempted to enjoy the rest of my night after such a memory. Luce had a great night opening all her gifts, including the necklace and bracelet. She immediately wore them. And after dinner, we drove home, watched a bit of Two and a Half Men on the television, and headed to bed together. The both of us shared a carafe or two of saki, which had put us both in the mood. More her, but how was I supposed to ruin her night? But after we spent the better half of the night together, I laid there in bed. Thinking of it. That night. What it was. What it did to that woman. What I did wrong. What I could’ve done right. How to go on… Any advice, father?

“Ever thought of going vegan?”