The cleaver thwocked into the carcass with a hefty thud. Foggy sighed and pried it free, landing another blow with not as much accuracy as he would like.
Bobo was out the back doing the truly messy stuff, hanging and gutting and sorting organs and washing them. Foggy was immensely grateful to be spared having to do that, but it didn't really make this job any more enjoyable.
The joint finally gave way and Foggy could change to a finer knife, cutting away clinging muscle and sinew. He finished cutting through to the bench and tossed the chunk to the side to clean up after.
"Foggy! Come give me a hand!"
He set down the knife and headed for the back area, wiping his hands on his apron. "Yeah?"
Bobo had a carcass on the slab, skinned and emptied but the rib cage still intact. "I need extra hands. I've got it cracked and cut, but it's not splitting. I need you to grab the left ribs there and keep pressure going, so I can cut up between the ribs and sternum."
"Right." The marrow was valuable, the bone could be used... every part of a carcass needed to be harvested. "Just hold and keep pulling?"
"Yep. Nice and steady." Bobo spun the knife in his fingers and gripped it again.
Foggy got a firm grip and put his weight behind holding the carcass. Bobo used his arm to push while he started cutting, thin blade flickering in and out of sight.
It wasn't the sight that got to him.
The first cracks were loud and wet, fat and tendon squelching and tearing. Foggy stared off elsewhere, trying to think of music, of the sound of his family's voices, of anything but his own imagination...
Bones breaking. The wet squelch of flesh, the way it would sound wetter with blood, burbling and shifting with breathing and heartbeat and-
He pulled away, grabbing a bucket and heaving into it.
He could feel Bobo's confused stare. They'd done this before, he'd been raised in a family doing something like this but he'd never had the horror of Matt's death in his imagination before.
He heard Bobo's footsteps approach him and then there was a cup with water being held out to him. "What happened?"
Foggy shook his head and closed his eyes, heaving again and then taking the water when he was sure he was done. "Just, off colour, I guess."
"Uh-huh." Bobo didn't seem to believe him, but he also didn't push. "You need to head off home?"
"No. Just, give me a few minutes." He could control it. With his stomach empty, he was sure he could control it. "I'll be there in a moment. I'm fine."
It sounded as hollow as when Matt said it to him, but unlike Matt, he was fine. It was just his imagination.
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Butchery CW: Butchery, imaginary butchery of people
Date: 2019-01-10 01:54 am (UTC)Bobo was out the back doing the truly messy stuff, hanging and gutting and sorting organs and washing them. Foggy was immensely grateful to be spared having to do that, but it didn't really make this job any more enjoyable.
The joint finally gave way and Foggy could change to a finer knife, cutting away clinging muscle and sinew. He finished cutting through to the bench and tossed the chunk to the side to clean up after.
"Foggy! Come give me a hand!"
He set down the knife and headed for the back area, wiping his hands on his apron. "Yeah?"
Bobo had a carcass on the slab, skinned and emptied but the rib cage still intact. "I need extra hands. I've got it cracked and cut, but it's not splitting. I need you to grab the left ribs there and keep pressure going, so I can cut up between the ribs and sternum."
"Right." The marrow was valuable, the bone could be used... every part of a carcass needed to be harvested. "Just hold and keep pulling?"
"Yep. Nice and steady." Bobo spun the knife in his fingers and gripped it again.
Foggy got a firm grip and put his weight behind holding the carcass. Bobo used his arm to push while he started cutting, thin blade flickering in and out of sight.
It wasn't the sight that got to him.
The first cracks were loud and wet, fat and tendon squelching and tearing. Foggy stared off elsewhere, trying to think of music, of the sound of his family's voices, of anything but his own imagination...
Bones breaking. The wet squelch of flesh, the way it would sound wetter with blood, burbling and shifting with breathing and heartbeat and-
He pulled away, grabbing a bucket and heaving into it.
He could feel Bobo's confused stare. They'd done this before, he'd been raised in a family doing something like this but he'd never had the horror of Matt's death in his imagination before.
He heard Bobo's footsteps approach him and then there was a cup with water being held out to him. "What happened?"
Foggy shook his head and closed his eyes, heaving again and then taking the water when he was sure he was done. "Just, off colour, I guess."
"Uh-huh." Bobo didn't seem to believe him, but he also didn't push. "You need to head off home?"
"No. Just, give me a few minutes." He could control it. With his stomach empty, he was sure he could control it. "I'll be there in a moment. I'm fine."
It sounded as hollow as when Matt said it to him, but unlike Matt, he was fine. It was just his imagination.
Just his imagination.