First off, chewing pretzels with a cold sucks. You can not breath.
Okay. Now to the point.
One of my summer jobs was at a slaughterhouse. It was owned by my biological father. Now there is an interesting specimen. The fact that I come from him, terrifies me. This man is in his late 40's, acts like he's a co-star on the Jersey Shore, and literally has a mail-order girlfriend from Russia. It's not normal. But anyways, I worked at his slaughterhouse. It consisted of 2 am to 4 pm shifts, every day. Life sucked.
One of the few highlights of my job though was hanging out with all of the animals. There were goats, sheep, horses, cows, and even an alpaca. Although, that thing was a pain. Every time I walked in to hustle the sheep to their eventual doom, where they would be turned into delicious gyros, that alpaca would make a fuss and scare all the other animals.
But out of all the animals, there was this little cute adorable goat. I loved him. I named him Billie. He always listened, and he would follow me around when I was within the gate. Even the one time when there was a gap in the fence, Billie came out, stood there, and just looked at me. When I came toward him, he went inside. He was by far my favorite.
Well, here's the thing about the meat industry. It comes with some social liabilities. If you work for it, one day you may come in and see Billie-the-goat's head on the floor. The next second you may be shoveling it's guts into a barrel, and then sending it off so its fat can be used for make-up, soap, and candles. Girl's I don't know if its true, but I know I freaked you out a bit. Ha.
God Bless the Meat Industry.
No comments:
Post a Comment