Monday, February 9, 2015


Meat sluices through a fine grate and lands in a pool of jasmine oil, becomes fragrant meat, the kind of meat that that tickles the senses so. The kind of meat you want to take to dinner. Meat gets done up in it's sharpest outfit, puts on a hat and some earrings and a moustache and some pearls and a handkerchief in it's pocket (meat is not sure of it's sex and figures it might as well accesorize up both ways), links arms with you and heads out to a fashionable nightspot named Chez Soiree Les Pumplemousse. You and meat eat some other meat and give each other those certain kinds of eyes (meat pins some olives to self to give the impression of eyes).

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