The rooster was going off again at 5 in the morning. It was time to do something...
It was time to eat a rooster. Now, most folks don't realize that roosters, tasty chickens though they are, have a penchant for being alive. It can be hard to get a rooster to sit still for long enough to be eaten. This is why butchers were invented.
Butchers are people to whom you bring a chicken, who will make the chicken easier to eat. So that's what we did with the rooster we were fed up with. Unbeknownst to us, this was a vegan butcher. So she accepted the rooster, chastised us, and sent us home with a soybean loaf. Still, our problem was solved. The rooster no longer awoke us at 5am.
The consequence of that, though, was that the rooster's waking no longer happened, so we slept until noon, at which point we were late for Octoberfest, excuse me, Oktoberfest, and it happened without us. Therefore all the beer was gone, and we had to spend our evening sober.
The consequence of that was that we didn't have a headache nor lethargy in the morning and we woke up at 5am refreshed.
The consequence of that was, we no longer minded being awake so early, so we wanted our friend, the rooster back.
The vegan butcher was not interested in giving us our rooster back. She had grown attached. She had also gotten to think of him as an apocalypse meal, should the apocalypse come and she be out of soy loaf.
Water. Dripping, Dripping. Dripping. She was slowly losing her mind.
The rooster wasn't food, he was. He wasn't. She watched him pace around behind the counter at her vegan butchery. He had these vibrant green eyes. Almost like cat eyes, were the chicken's eyes. More importantly, his coxcomb was pulsing red. His tick tick tick of the claws on this toes felt like Chinese water torture as implemented by a deranged American Midwestern farmer.
It occurred to her that that would make it not Chinese water torture, but rather American water torture, and was there even really a thing called Chinese water torture or was her fevered mind being racist?
She couldn't tell because the rooster looked delicious. She sawed off another slab of soy loaf and ate a soft, melty bite. Ugh. There was nothing grosser than soy loaf. She looked at it in disgust. This was punishment from god for eating the apple from the tree of the garden of knowledge of eden of good of evil of of of
She knew that it was wrong to eat a delicious chicken. It was wrong to kill any living thing expect for germs. Germs were okay to kill, she figured, because there were just so many of them. Then a little voice spoke up... there's also a lot of chickens.
But there aren't
The mark on the door told everyone that she was willing to kill to eat. The bloody butcher knife above her entranceway provided all the evidence the vegan police needed. This was no longer a vegan butchery, The very concept was absurd ABAC
All Butchers Are CKillers.
It was a common refrain amongst the vegan community. They'd stolen it from the punk community. There had been faux punks who'd infiltrated the punk community a long time ago and tried to establish a vegan enclave withint the punk community, but punks are smart and knew what was happening.
They did get to learn ACAB before their flow of information was cut off. Now, they turned the truth into a convenient catchphrase. The vegan butcher had gone rogue and become an eater of flesh. She merely raised germs to eat, but it was a slippery slope. They knew it wouldn't be long before she began eating them. She certainly had spent plenty of time and effort trying to eat them, stalking them and
We went off the rails at some point, didn't we? I think it was back when I watched a play last night about a serial killer. It was a good play. It was funny and heartbreaking and scary. And the animations were gorgeous.
This is the show's trailer:
