A Butcher's

What is this?

A Saturday night and a good friend Bo leads the merry folk to a pub, The Jolly Butchers, incase you were wondering and it’s the run up to Christmas. 

To be hung on display.

It dawns on her with pint in hand and swift looks around the room that she had never been part of the meat-market, the free for all. Maybe it’s because it’s the run up to Christmas that there were more brash jumpers in the room being fashioned by boyish faced men with beards who looked straight past people and made you feel self-conscious.

Rumps look delicious.

His ego bristles as he scours the room to find new challengers, acquaintances and hot totty. A minute ago he’d ordered a hot toddy but the barman in faintly rolled-up sleeves said with a sneer,‘we don’t do that here mate’ and that was that, he got a real ale instead. Apart from the sensitivity he suffered about his height (he was shorter than the rest but only by a margin in some cases) he had the happy demeanour of an American, which bodes well for when talking to women. He was off chattering to flocks whilst in corners and tables others were left to brood.

A grim flash of the cleaver.

She caught sight of a reflection in the enormous strained mirrors hanging off the old-mauve walls. She caught sight of three men dotted around the room looking in her direction, at her with bared teeth and continual side-glances thinking she hadn’t noticed. She was in a white shirt with red lips on display and a shot of white pain fell her insides with each stare. Any pain was soon to dissipate as she lapsed back in to conversation, gulped down more beer, oh the haven of inane murmurings, to pretend not to have seen, not to have cared.

Chopping and the slicing and the gutting of the meal.

The two are next to each other by some chance push and shove of the people getting their drinks infront. She’s drunk and content to be surrounded by the squealers so long as she can carry on with her friends to the next pub and club, but he wants more of her smile and her hair in his life so turns and says, ‘can I get you a drink?’. She’s not going to refuse because he looks well put together with combed back hair like from the 1950s, and why not gorgeous, flaunt what god gave you. She tells him to come over to her flock and bring the pack along with him, the girls love a bit of attention, and he’s bitten off more than he can chew but what fun there is to be had in a meat-market.

Hang out the carcasses on the butcher's hook. 

Make sure t’clean the windows so the wives can get look.