Who does this?
Hacks up chickens from 5 a.m until 8 a.m. while watching "Angel"? Murdering and killing demons with aplumb!
My mosh of hungry 4 legged monsters swirling around my ankles, their brightly colored stalwart physique's bumping and crashing into me as they bicker over tidbits that fall into their waiting maws.
I'm armed with Santoku, boning knife, kitchen shear and a cleaver ...How I love my cleaver! The husband was saying the other night over dinner with his boss, "it's amazing how Rebekah has such precision with that cleaver, her hands have awful tremors and even her head shakes but when that cleaver is in her hands she can whack a chicken in the same spot repeatedly and never miss by a fraction!".
The counter is sanitized, the cutting boards are washed as well, the stainless bowls are lined up and waiting patiently for their meaty deposits.
From the family room I can hear David Boreanaz say they must defeat the "Beast" in his muttering voice, still trying to get his acting wings. (what is it about this show that gets my fat ass out of bed every morning - it cant be the acting!? it must be my incredulous belief in Vampires even if they are yuppie horseshit poorly portrayed highly fashionable and too pretty Vamps)
Out of the refrigerator I procure a stack of chicken thighs so tall that one would expect that I were about to feed an army or begin the Independence Day hash slinging! Expertly I balance these like a trained Jenga pro, and then return to the ice-box and bring out the rest of the gushy treats (i.e. kidneys, gizzards, liver and be still...my not still beating heart).
Methodically I slice, the blade makes a 'snick snick' as the steel waltzes through the flesh. I don't use precision, instead I mangle and mutilate the poultry into tantalizing morsels that can be devoured by my hooligans. Emulating the shreds that their mouth would impart upon a kill, accurate? NO just grab, tear, swallow!
Why, you wonder, am I doing this?
Let's see....I love them. I can't see giving them crap any longer. The media feeds us shit and we eat it. If only I had the same will power to feed myself as well as I feed my cats, then perhaps I'd be svelte and muscular instead of one of the Teletubbies.
I won't be Tinky-Winky though! Did you know that Jerry Falwell swore that he was Gay!?
Perhaps, but it could be a common mistake just because he has a murse!
I could easily be mistaken for a axe-murderer, a gynecologists or just a butcher...
Why can't I get the blood out?