Lakeview Discount Meats Joseph Hurley was a wealthy man looking for lucrative ways to increase his wealth. Often the least legal paid the best dividends. As his limo entered the gate of Lakeview Discount Meats slaughterhouse for a meeting, he thought to himself, “No one would ever suspect that anything was going on here. The building looks like an abandoned warehouse. And no other buildings around. Perfect disguise.” “Mr. Hurley, welcome. I have been expecting you. I am Fred Wilson, General Manager of Lakeview Discount Meats. Please call me Fred. I will personally conduct your tour and answer your questions. As you know, we desire your investment so that we can expand this facility and even open some branches in outlying areas.” “Thank you, Fred. You may call me Joe. I don’t like to waste time on preliminaries, so I am ready to begin as soon as possible.” “I like that. Please follow me. I suspect you are familiar with general slaughterhouse operations, so I won’t bore you with detailed explanations. But if there is anything specific you want to know, I will give you as much detail as you wish.” After a short walk: “This is our receiving area. As you can see, there is ample security. And even if some of the meat girls escaped, our entire compound is surrounded by electrified fences. We have never had an escape. The meat girls are ages 15 to 25 with most being in the 17 to 19 age group. Younger than 15 they don’t have enough meat, and our market isn’t interested in any older than 25. We process them as quickly as possible. First, they are herded through the depilatory baths which removes all body hair. We keep their head hair because some of our specialty markets prefer it.” Fred and Joe were in a wide walkway separated from the meat girls by a thick, wire-reinforced glass wall that allowed them to easily observe all processes. They continued along to where the meat girls exited the depilatory bath and where they were showered and scrubbed by staff. “We like our stock to be exceptionally clean, and we pay attention to detail. As the staff clean them they look for deformities or problems of any kind. Those are separated and put down. Inspectors also look for a federal meat inspection stamp, and if there is none, we give them one.” Fred looked at Joe, knowing that this action was illegal and wanting to see Joe’s reaction. Joe merely smiled. Everything about this place was illegal. A bootleg stamp was nothing. They continued walking. “Next we herd them single file past our next inspector. He has a list of special orders we have received. Special orders is where we make our biggest profit. We sell live fully prepared meat girls, ready to BBQ or oven roast. Customers frequently specify a certain body type, or breast size, or hair color, or height, or any combination—and they always want them live. Our inspector looks for meat girls who match the order and separate them out for special treatment. The rest stay in the herd and go to general processing.” “When you say ‘general processing’, what do you mean specifically?” “These go onto our main slaughter line. They are hung, upside down, throat cut to bleed out. Then they are gutted and beheaded, split and put in the cooling room overnight. From the cooling room they go to the butchers who separate them into the various cuts that you would find in any meat market or butcher shop. Typical slaughterhouse processing.” “Do you use a circular saw or band saw for splitting?” “We have tried both and prefer the band saw. We have fewer industrial accidents with it. We want to cut only the meat girls, not the staff. . . . . But our specialty line is what I am most proud of and where most of our profit lies. About half of the meat girls go to specialty processing. Follow me through here and I will show you what we do with the meat girls our inspector separates out.” At the end of a connecting hallway they passed through a door into an area totally separate from the main slaughterhouse processing line. “This first area provides live oven roasters. We bring meat girls here who meet the requirements of these special orders, and here we process them in one of two ways, whichever the customer has specified.” “What are the two ways?” “We can provide them stuffed, with or without stitches.” “How do you manage that?” “Here’s one about to be processed. Let’s watch.” Just six feet away, behind the reinforced glass they saw a meat girl forcibly laid on her back upon a table with gynecological-type foot stirrups. She was strapped into place. A large garbage can was placed on the floor under her ass. The attendant took an electric tool and stuck it in her asshole and pulled the trigger. The business end spun rapidly and he pressed in as the meat girl screamed. Soon there was a bloody ring around her asshole.” “What is that tool he is using?” asked Joe. “That is a simple electric drill you can buy in any hardware store, and the drill bit in the end is also available in any hardware store. It is used by carpenters to cut 2-inch holes in wood. We use it to separate the anal sphincter from the perineum.” “In other words, you cut out her asshole.” “Exactly.” The meat girl had begun screaming as this was done and the guards quickly inserted a ball gag. As Joe watched, the attendant took a device with a hook on the end, used it to snag the asshole and started pulling. Fred explained, “They are going to completely gut her through this oversize asshole. By pulling, they can get the mesentery to let loose of the colon and small intestine. Sometimes they have to pull quite hard but their experience has taught them how to get it done. It goes out of her and into the garbage can. Our best technicians know when they have it all, and then they stretch the opening and reach inside with a special tool and cut the stomach loose from the esophagus. Using that same tool, he cuts the vagina loose from the vulva from the inside, and cuts the bladder loose from her pee hole. Ovaries, uterus, bladder—it all comes out through the asshole. Now he’s flushing out the cavity with clean water. Next he is inserting a large diameter hose which is pumping stuffing in. We have our standard blend, or some customers prefer their own stuffing recipe. We can put in enough to make the body look normal and buff, or we can pump in enough to make her look 9-months pregnant. Whatever the customer wants and is willing to pay for. The pussy hole is sewed shut and the new asshole, too, to keep the stuffing in. The benefit is that there are no stitches on the belly, because the belly was never cut open. This improves the appearance and some of our customers are willing to pay more for that.” “Doesn’t the gutting cause shock or death?” “Rarely. We have specially trained medics standing by are watching the meat girl’s vital signs and prepared to administer drugs to prevent shock. And most cases of death are caused by blood loss, but our method causes a minimum of blood loss.” “You said there were two options.” “Yes, the other option involves regular gutting by cutting open the abdominal cavity and scooping out the guts. We use a former surgeon who is able to do it without causing any deadly trauma. Again the medics are standing by to prevent shock. This method is faster, cheaper, and makes it possible to harvest liver and kidneys which are nearly impossible to remove through the asshole. These organs can be ground up as part of the stuffing for those who request it. The only down side is that the belly must be sewn up again after inserting the desired stuffing. . . . . Oh, one more thing. We can also provide whole, live, gutted, unstuffed meat girls. Some people have special uses but they don’t like to do the gutting, so we gut them the same way we do our stuffed roasters, except that we don’t stuff them.” “You go to great pains to keep these meat girls alive, but surely their lifespan is greatly shortened.” “Indeed it is. We prepare them for same day delivery and cooking. We guarantee them to arrive alive and ready to pop into the oven. We haven’t lost any yet, and our record of repeat customers speaks for itself.” “Very impressive, Fred. Now I’d like to see what you are doing with spitted BBQ meat girls.” “Of course. Follow me.” It was just a short walk to a different area where they could see rows of Jessica 3000 spitting machines. “I see you do mechanical spitting.” “Of course. We have so many orders that we couldn’t keep up if we had to do it manually.” “How many Jessicas do you run?” “Right now we have 20 operating, but I want to double that. That’s why we need your investment.” “So exactly what products are you offering your customers here?” “Live, spitted meat girls, ready to go over the coals. They can be gutted or ungutted, stuffed or not. BBQ meat has never been more popular. We can’t keep up with the demand. The Jessicas cut down on labor. Our machines have an option switch to eliminate the gutting part of the cycle for customers who want whole, spitted, ungutted meat girls. The Jessicas also have a good track record of producing live spitted meat girls. Number of deaths is negligible. Still, once they are spitted, it is important to get them to the customer as quickly as possible. So, you see our delivery truck through that large, overhead door. The technicians toe tag the meat girls with their destination address then carry them out and load them on the delivery truck immediately. A truck has racks to hold sixteem meat girls at a time. If the trip is too long, they may not be too lively at the destination. That’s why we will use part of your investment to open more branches where we can be closer to customers and can deliver them faster with fresher girl meat.” “Well Fred, I’m convinced. You can count on me to invest $10 million.” “Thanks, Joe. You won’t be sorry.” Just then, all the lights went out and all electric appliances—like Jessicas and electric drills—came to a dead stop. Then they head an amplified voice saying, “This is the police. This slaughterhouse is surrounded. Everyone is under arrest. Do not try to leave.” An hour later all the staff, including Joe and Fred, had been arrested. The unprocessed meat girls had been put on trucks and carried to a safe location, and a police sergeant went up to the officer in charge and said, “Lieutenant, sir, you know, we have some real problems here.” “Show me.” They went first to the oven roasted area. “Sir, this meat girl says her name is Lisa. She has been gutted and stuffed and is still very much alive. And this next girl has been cut open and even more of her organs removed than Lisa. She is not stuffed, but she is lying there wide open and very much alive. And the next two are much the same.” “Is that all?” “No, sir. There’s even more problems in the BBQ area.” They took the short walk. “There’s 18 girls on these machines. All have a BBQ spit started through them. When the power was cut, the spit stopped wherever it happened to be; some are a little spitted, others are nearly done. We can’t put the power back on because we think the machines will start up and finish spitting these meat girls, and gutting some of them. Over here is one with the spit half way through her and her belly cut open and her guts hanging halfway down the garbage chute. Out there (he pointed to the overhead door) there is a delivery truck with fourteen live spitted meat girls in it. They were supposed to be delivered and cooked today. What do we do?” “First, put a guard so that nobody turns the power back on. Then get me a secure line to headquarters.” After the secure line was found and a call made: “Captain, Lieutenant Smith here. We have a mess.” He explained what the sergeant had told him. “Look, Lieutenant you know we are already way over budget. City Hall won’t give us any more money. No way will we be able to pay for all the medical care those girl meats will need. In fact, I don’t even know if they can be saved. Probably need a lot of expensive Intensive Care and then they will die anyway. It would be much better if you can convince them to go ahead and get roasted or BBQed. Tell them that their families will be reimbursed when we liquidate the assets of Lakeview Slaughterhouse.” “Is that the truth?” “Hell, no. But that doesn’t go beyond you and me. The best we can do is sell their meat and use it to relieve some of the pressure on our budget. . . . Just convince them not to ask for medical care.” Lt. Smith hung up the phone. “What did you find out, sir?” asked the sergeant. “We can’t save them. Let’s go to the delivery truck first. How many are in there?” “I think 14.” The lieutenant walked to the front of the cargo hold of the truck. He could see 28 eyes looking pleadingly at him. “I am Lt. Smith from the police. We have raided this illegal slaughterhouse and stopped their operation. I am sorry that we came too late to prevent you from being spitted, but at least we got to you before they delivered you. That’s the good news. The bad news is that I have spoken to the doctors at the hospital and they said that you can’t be saved. You have been completely spitted, and the damage that was done to you internally will cause your death, some sooner than others. They said they could operate and try to fix you up but it would at best just be a short delay. In the end you would still die. But I have more good news. You can still be a benefit to your families. You could agree to go ahead and be BBQed and sold. You girls are beautiful and will bring top dollar. That money could go to your families. Also, when we liquidate the assets of this illegal operation, those funds, too, will go to your families. I know that you can’t speak, but I will come to each of you and if you agree to this settlement, blink your eyes twice.” “Did they all agree?” asked the sergeant. Only two of the girl meats blinked twice, but the lieutenant said, “Looked that way to me, and I’ll call any man a liar who says different. There’s a number of BBQ pits out back behind the factory. Get them fired up.” “All of them?” “All. We’ve got a lot of girls to cook. Next I’ll talk to the ones only half-spitted.” He walked to the first Jessica. Then, speaking so only the first girl meat could hear him, he said, “Hi, what’s your name?” “Sandi.” “Sandi, here’s the situation. Your spit seems to be in your throat. A couple more seconds of power and you would have been completely spitted and not able to talk.” “Tell me something I don’t know!” she replied angrily, coughing and swallowing due to the pressure of the spit in her throat. “I see you’re really angry. That’s understandable. We’re going to do everything we can to save you. The problem is that we can’t move you still attached to the machine. The doctor suggested that we turn the electricity back on and let the spitting process finish. Then the machine will release the spit and we can extract you and get you to the hospital. The problem is that eventually you are going to die no matter what we do. Maybe a week, probably just a day. But if you let us BBQ you, we can sell your meat and give the money to your family. What do you say?” “I say HELL NO! I WANT TO LIVE!” she shouted. All the other spittees heard that part. So much for trying to have a private conversation. Soon, they were all yelling, I WANT TO LIVE!” “What are we going to do, lieutenant?” asked the sergeant. “We have to stop this before it gets out of hand,” he replied. “LISTEN TO ME!” he shouted, and slowly their protests died down. “I SPOKE WITH THE DOCTORS WHO SAID THEY WILL DO EVERYTHING THEY CAN TO HELP YOU, BUT WE HAVE TO GET YOU THERE TO THEM. WE CAN’T DO THAT WITH YOU LOCKED IN THE JESSICAS. THE ONLY WAY TO GET YOU OUT IS TO TURN THE ELECTRICITY BACK ON AND LET THE CYCLE FINISH. THEN THE MACHINE WILL RELEASE YOU.” “Sergeant, go and reconnect the power cables.” He ran off and did as instructed. The lights suddenly came back on, and the Jessicas all started humming, and the spits started moving, and the girl meats all started screaming as the pain from the spits started again. But their screaming stopped as soon as the spits exited their mouths, and a second later, the Jessicas stopped humming. Lieutenant Smith said to himself, “Ah, blessed peace and quiet.” The sergeant returned. “What now, boss?” “How are those fire pits doing?” “Ready to roast.” “How many are there?” “There’s 30.” “But we have 32 girl meats. 18 here that just finished spitting, and 14 in the truck. You have a pit, don’t you? Why don’t you take one home for your family, and I’ll take the other. Put the other 30 on the pits here. I’ll make the corrections in my report.” “What about the live roasters.” “How many of them?” “Four.” “Search this place and see if there are any ovens here, then put them in to roast. I think the Captain prefers roasted girl meat over BBQ anyway; and we mustn’t forget the Police Commissioner.” The sergeant ran off to do as instructed and the lieutenant said to himself, “Case solved. All done but the paperwork.”
