Congratulations on Leaving the Butcher Shop!

You’ll know you shouldn’t have fucked his wife, but it’ll be far, far too late by then. Four weeks and three nights too late, plus that one time in the Olive Garden bathroom a while back to be precise. But your momma raised you partly right and one of the lessons she made sure you had etched into your skull was that you don’t wrong a man and not apologize.

Sure, your mom left your dad for another man when you were seven and never spoke another word to you again and as far as you know she’s dead with some freak’s semen in her belly but that doesn’t really relate to the importance of the lessons she taught you, including “don’t touch the third rail.”

Which is why you’ll show up at Glenn’s butcher shop on St. Patrick Street on Saturday. You’ll walk in, wait patiently in line and consider the various meat choices available. You’ll giggle, wondering why Glenn likes meat so much, then feel bad about giggling at a man you’ve wronged so profoundly. When you get to the counter he won’t recognize you at first. He’ll open his mouth like you’re just another customer, but before he issues his greeting the gears will click and he’ll stammer in surprise.

“H-hey Franklin.” You’ll nod in response.

“Glenn, I need to tell you something.” He’ll look at you, then at the line behind you.

“Can it wait, buddy?” You’ll shake your head, a gesture he’ll seem to miss. His eyes will drift to the next customer in line, an elderly black woman with a list written on the back of a Safeway receipt in hand.

“I’ve been fucking Christy.”

His eyes will go wide.

“You fucking joking?”

You’ll shake your head.

“Sorry. Not about sleeping with her, that was awesome. About betraying your trust. For like a month.”

He’ll be fuming after that, chewing the inside of his lip and breathing heavy with his hands on the counter. “What?” he’ll say, violence evident in his voice.

“Don’t worry. We’re done. Unless she follows through on leaving you. She’s a great girl, I just don’t want to betray you anymore through her.”

After that last one he’ll let loose a wordless scream and throw a knife at you. You’ll duck with Bush-like reflexes and it will catch the elderly black woman waiting behind you in the chest, mortally wounding her. You’ll scramble through the line while people kick and scratch at you and Glenn follows you out of the store brandishing a cleaver at his side.

Once you get out you’ll start running, hoping that Glenn’s girth will keep him rooted to his business, shaking his cleaver in the air at you as you fade away. As the sounds of his shouts fade behind you you won’t be able to shake the feeling that this whole situation could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t taken that “speak whatever the fuck pops into your head” class from Ted Nugent.

Congratulations on Leaving the Butcher Shop!