The Butcher Shop

Before the small white and blue tiled room smelling the dead carcasses and blood, I was standing at the local meat shop for my order.

The butcher boy takes the order, pulls the foul out of the cage by its wings, chops, cleanse, cut them into the pieces [with precision and accurate measurement, I am finicky], wrapped them into black plastic cover and moves to the next customer.

The local butcher boy cutting a chicken piece

As I head to home thinking about a suitable recipe to make a nice weekend lunch, the cackling chickens inside the cage loudly called out. All will be dead by the night and eat, so goodbye.


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