Meat Theft On The Rise: And the Culprit Is?

by bernquist

Old Harry Skorbel was in a real brown pickle. Additionally, nothing about his circumstances was in any way pickle-like. Or brown. He’d been watching the Melrose Community Steakhouse for nigh on 54 consecutive hours now from the comfort (or lack thereof) of his destroyed as well as ruined 1998 four door Honda Civic.

It hadn’t always been this way. In the late eighties Harry was the proud owner of an astonishingly well kept 1970 Ford Pinto, but I digress.

The steakhouse in question had been occupied by real meat eating plebeians, socialites of considerable wealth, Norwegian ox immigration specialists, mailmen, archers, school teachers, and all other people that do stuff for a living for days on end, leaving Harry scant opportunity to pounce.

Harry was once a Real Estate agent in Shreevsomethingorother, New Hampshire, but lost his wooden job status after the housing market exploded in 2008, and after several homes were destroyed by suicidal and morbidly obese koalas lunging to their deaths from the huge trees above.

It was then that he turned to crime, principally robbing steak houses of all their elk, eagle, antelope and other meats to be sold in the huge and largely non existent Underground Weird Meats Exchange.

Harry knew from extensive research that the Melrose Community Steakhouse was stuffed to the big brown rafters with the finest albino alligator meat in the nation, and he knew that the meat emporium would be closed on Monday due to the owner’s raucous hatred of Monday Night Football.

It was 12 a.m. The last useless server was exiting the building and locking the huge brown walnut front door with a magnificent wooden key crafted exclusively from cheap, low quality prefinished maple veneer.

“This is my one shot” thought Harry as he fired up his meat vacuum. He charged full bore toward the entrance, screaming…

 

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