On his way home, Steve decided to pop into the new butcher’s that had just opened on the corner of the high street.
He was always bemoaning about the decline of the town centre and how all the shops were closing down. Since the big shopping mall had opened several years ago, all the traditional shops had closed. The haberdashery, the Ironmongers, the Bakers and the greengrocers had all closed down. So, in order to put his money where his mouth was, he felt obliged to check out this new shop and encourage it as best he could.
As he walked in, the smell of the meat and the sawdust on the floor took him back to his youth. This was just the thing he wanted. The memories threatened to overwhelm him. His grandad had been a butcher and he often sat on a stool in the corner and watched him chop up things with his giant cleaver.
The sound of a piercing whistle brought him back to reality with a bump. The Butcher came into the front of the shop through and he was whistling a haunting melody. He carried a cleaver in one hand and a large piece of meat in his other. It looked rather dubious to him. He tried to rack his brains to think of what animal resembled the red, bleeding carcass that the burly man held.
“Can I help you, Sir?” The butcher asked.
“Erm, No thank you, I was just browsing. Good night” Steve replied, backing out of the door, rather sheepishly.
‘I think I’ll stick to the Supermarket in future, after all’ he thought to himself.
Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 23/November/2018