What's that Smell?

Invoker · Feb 15, 2017

Mr. Grimgore’s brow creased and his eyes narrowed at the young man’s question. He wasn’t going to be a problem, was he? No. He just had no idea what they did here, that was all. But this was probably a deal breaker for most people off the street. Shame. Mr. Grimgore could have used the help. “Apologies. I thought you would have noticed the labels or seen the registration in the window. Most of our meat is human. That’s what it means for us to be a specialty butcher’s. Rare excetpions, of course, like the dragon liver. Came from an anonymous donor.”

Mr. Grimgore walked back out to the front of shop. He expected this interview might end soon, but he would at least answer any questions Mr. Cabyll-Ushtey had on his way. “Our registration covers all legal sentient meats. You wouldn’t need to handle full carcasses at all, but some carving would be necessary at the counter. About as much as you saw me do with those ribs.”

ReD · Feb 16, 2017

"Oh, I thought specialty meant..."

Something else.

He'd thought something else entirely. His family sold to specially butchered: farm raised, organic sheep. Expensive fuckers.

Lochlann had been thinking, when he did glimpse the labels (although truthfully he hadn't really given them too much of a look--meat was meat, Lochlann never considered it might be other meat) that the meat was intended for human consumption. Not that it..was human.

oh god, and to think, Lochlann had been hungry when he walked in.

His stomach did a little flip flop.

"Okay," Lochlann said. "I can handle carving."

Oh god where those words really coming out of his mouth?

Oh.

oh fucking god.

Lochlann had told him that he felt reasonably certain he could tell a customer how to season them for...barbecue...

The walls felt like they were much, much to small now. The more he tried to ignore it, the more he tried to feel repulsed by the smell, the more Lochlann realized that it smelled good, and of course it smelled good because he was a monster and--

—"Uh would you excuse me for a moment?" Lochlann asked. His voice had a strained quality to it, far away, as though breathing was suddenly hard.

He would not pass out in here.

He would not eat in here.

He would most definitely NOT jump out of the window of this shop, but it was the most tempting of the possibilities.

"I uh..." he stopped and realized what he said about the dragon liver. "The...dragon donated his liver here?"

He wasn't sure why.

this was so clinical.
He wasn't sure if he was comforted or horrified.

Invoker · Feb 17, 2017

He could handle carving? Well, this interview might go on longer than Mr. Grimgore had thought. Perhaps the young man really did have a stronger stomach than most. But he was breathing a bit hard... “Of course, excuse yourself as you need. There’s a bathroom out front if that would help.”

And there was the matter of the dragon liver. “Yes, what we don’t grow here comes from donations. Organs that can’t be used for transplants, medical leftovers, a few full bodies. It’s all government managed. How they decide who gets what is a bit beyond me, and there’s a lot of paperwork, but the meat is usually better quality, and some customers have special needs that the vat grown meat can’t satisfy.” Mr. Grimgore waved his hand at the fridge full of virgin, split into male and female sections. It was among the most common dietary needs. He knew at least one dragon who ate it by preference.

“All our nonhuman meats are donated, not that we have many.” He walked down to the last fridge in the row and stared into it. There were still a few unicorn steaks left, but wouldn’t be much else until he was finished with the dragon liver. “I guess you could grow most natural animals in the vats, but the technology was made for humans and that’s what’s most in demand. You can also get the meat from industrial scale labs, but that has quality issues of its own. I prefer to tend the vats myself. Gives a better product, more palatable. I had a customer who called it a ‘microbrew’ operation.”

ReD · Feb 17, 2017

Mr. Grimgore gave him permission to use the bathroom or head outside and Lochlann felt relief, because it meant he could walk out, get a grip and not make a total idiot of himself.

That was good. Despite the conflicting feelings of this operation (was it revolting? inspiring?), Lochlann realized he rather liked Mr. Grimgore, and the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of the man.

So, while Lochlann nodded and tried to wrap his mind around why anyone would donate their body to be eaten after they died (and then Lochlann had that momento mori of what will happen to my body when I die?) he stopped to pay attention to the fridge and the labels this time.

Virgin.

Microbrew virgins.

The walls were now much to small. Lochlann wanted suddenly, desperately, to be in a lake, down somewhere deep where it was cold and safe, but when he thought about water, he thought about vats, and when he thought about dead virgins he thought about his girlfriends, all of them, all of the dead ones, and Lochlann realized that his legs were shaking.

"Microbrew virgins," Lochlann swallowed, and then, he gave a high, nervous laugh, and had the horrible realization that he was about to embarras himself terribly because his vision was tunneling and the floor was getting closer and closer.

It's a shame the virgin meat wasn't attatched to a living woman so Lochlann could have used the pick up line, baby you're so beautiful you make it hard to see straight.

Lochlann promptly passed out.

Invoker · Feb 17, 2017

“Well, technically the virgin isn’t microbrew. Though I suppose the meat we grow here never actually...” Mr. Grimgore stopped explaining when he heard the thump of the young man hitting the floor.

He stared. This had not happened before. He’d been yelled at. He’d had protesters. He’d been threatened by hungry customers who thought he’d make good eating. He had not had anybody pass out on him before. The most he’d had to deal with was getting somebody to the nearest sink when they saw the freezer for the first time. This was new.

Mr. Grimgore scratched his head and looked around the shop. He stepped over to the young man and turned him face up. “Hey.” He shook the young man’s shoulder. “Hey. Wake up.” Mr. Cabyll-Ushtey did not wake up.

Mr. Grimgore sighed and slung the young man over his shoulder. He went to the processing room sink and ran a trickle of cold water, then set Mr. Cabyll-Ushtey down by the table and splashed his face with a little of it. And then he waited.

ReD · Feb 17, 2017

Lochlann came back to it slowly and unhappily.

He was not unconscious very long, just long enough that waking up now hurt. He'd passed out a few times in his life so he should have been something of an expert at it by now, but truthfully, Lochlann would never get used to waking up someplace unfamiliar.

The first thing he realized was that he was drooling and there was running water.

"What's that smell?" he murmured because christ, it smelled good, and Lochlann was positively hungry.

Then he wondered why there was water, and why his face was wet, and....why he was human. He lifted his head up, which hurt and fuck, it was bright in here, and Lochlann rubbed his eyes with his hands.

And then it all came back to him.

He swallowed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I uh...I wasn't expecting that to happen."

He tried to get up but his legs still felt weak, so he sat back on his heels for a moment and gave an apologetic look to Mr. Grimgore.

"I uh..." he wasn't sure what to say. He swallowed. "Does this happen often?"

Invoker · Feb 18, 2017

“No, this is the first time. I’ve had a few people vomit before, though. This is easier to clean up.” Mr. Grimgore pulled the chair from the desk and pushed it toward Lochlann. “So the ‘microbrew virgins’ got to you, huh? I admit it’s a bit strange, but some of our customers have pretty specific needs. I just need the meat to be human myself. Makes taste testing easy. But if you really want to work here you’ll have to be able to handle those requirements, and take them seriously. And if you don’t really want to work here, well, I can’t hold that against you if you walked in without even knowing what kind of meat we sell.”

ReD · Feb 19, 2017

Lochlann accepted the chair with a nod and a quiet 'Thank you' and sat down in it. He hung his head low for a few minutes, taking a few deep breaths, and finally gathering himself together.

"I suppose that's a first for me," Lochlann said. His voice brimmed with self deprecation. "I can now add microbrew virgins to the list of things that have knocked me out."

He wasn't sure if he was reassured or distressed by being the first person to pass out here. He wasn't worried that he was going to vomit. oh, no, Lochlann was worried that he was going to be hungry.

He nodded.

"It makes sense," Lochlann confessed. "And I'm surprised I never really thought about it before. I didn't really grow up in a place like the Manta Carlos, and in America, if you apply to a specialty butcher it means something else entirely."

He gave a short laugh. "I suppose it reflects poorly on me for not doing a little bit more research before I walked in and just asked for a job. I'm sorry."

He rubbed his face in his hands. He needed to get a grip.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again and sat up against the chair.

He surveyed the man before him with a little bit more interest now that he'd caught on that Mr.Grimgore needed the meat to be human. He felt it would be wrong to ask why, and Lochlann didn't want to ask why in case he had to divulge why microbrew virgins had set him off, but he was painfully curious.

"Uh...is there...any chance I could consider for a day and still be considered for the position, or did uh, passing out sort of ruin my chances?" Lochlann asked.

Invoker · Feb 19, 2017

Mr. Grimgore smiled when Mr. Cabyll-Ushtey started apologizing, just barely exposing his sharp pointed teeth. “To tell the truth, we’re deliberately discreet about our services. The meat here caters to a fringe need. Even on the island there’s some squeamishness, so they call it a ‘specialty’ meat and try not to think about it. Same idea as an ordinary specialty butcher, just filling a need only a few of us have. Could never do this sort of thing back in America, of course, no matter if they knew there were people eaters out there. Would probably save them a few serial killers, but unsavory tastes are always hard to satisfy.”

Now came the interesting question. Did Mr. Grimgore want to hire him on? The fact that the young man was asking at all was a good sign. Whatever bothered him about the meat, he was at least considering pushing through it to work here anyway. “You can have a day to think about it. If you decide you want to then I’ll consider letting you work the counter part time. But if you do come back, I’d recommend familiarizing yourself with the inventory before you start. Just to make sure you know what you’d be dealing with. No more surprises.”

ReD · Feb 20, 2017

Lochlann gave a short laugh at the idea of doing this in America, but for the most part, he was curious. He knew about his meat industry. he knew about lamb and pork and chicken, and a few cattle, but mostly the sheep. So this was connected to his background. It revolted him, but it interested him, too, and he couldn't decide what feeling was worse.

He also liked Mr. Grimgore, which surprised him, too.

Lochlann didn't know about his own body. He knew human biology. But he knew nothing of his own. He knew only of anemia from what Cat told him. He never thought that, maybe, pretending he didn't want or need to eat meat might be making him worse in the long run. He never realized that maybe his body needed meat to compensate for the lack of iron in his blood, which was ironic given that he was allergic to iron. It was a mess that never, ever crossed his mind.

He only knew that he was hungry and ashamed.

"Thank you, sir," Lochlann said. His legs felt more like legs and less like jello, so he pulled himself to his feet. Lochlann pushed the chair back where it came from and said, "I will be in touch regardless. I appreciate your taking a chance on me despite, well, the obvious."

He offered him his hand to shake but wasn't sure if he was thanking him or saying good bye.

Lochlann made his way to the door and couldn't breath until he was outside.

Why did it have to smell so good?

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