The Butcher

The air remained chilly as I parked my car by the side of the road. Nothing out of the ordinary as I made my way to the door of the man I was set to meet today. Knock on the door, do the inspection, everything goes well and I’ll be on my way. I thought this to myself in hopes that would be the case. Stepping up to the door, I knocked to reveal the door swing open to an older man, muscular but graying hair. He wore plaid and denim overalls, his cold stare scrutinizing my every movement.

“Hello sir, we’re here for the inspection that we notified you of in advance?” I stated as politely as needed.

“Come in, come in. I’ll show you to my poultry farm.” The man answered faking a welcoming tone.

“That would be great. We just have to make sure things are running smoothly, you know? Got a few complaints about large chunks of solid mass in your ground chicken.” Or at least that’s what I was told based on the reports file.

“I can assure you, that should not be the case. My machinery should be in excellent condition.” He responded with ease.

“Of course, we just have to do it assure everyone.”

Two hours was all it took but I was convinced everything seemed fine. The machinery was up to specs, everything was clean according to standards, and safety measures were being met. Odd that everything was cleaned out since the last visit two weeks ago but that’s not my concern, shows me the farm was changed to meet our standards.

“Well, everything seems to be in working order. Clean as a whistle.”

“What’d I tell you? Nothing to worry about.” Cockiness in the man’s voice.

“It’s as you say, sir. I just need you to open this here cabinet.” I pointed to the only one in the corner near the entrance of the fridge.

“There’s nothing in there for you to see.” He was probably right, the last inspection it was just an empty cabinet with nothing inside. But the urgency in his tone…

“Sorry, but I just need to make a thorough examination of the whole farm before I can sign off on this. Not like your hiding a dead body or anything.” I laughed a little to ease the tension but his stare continued its cold demeanor but he relented.

“Let me grab the key then.”

Taking the key out of his set, he unlocked the latch and opened it to reveal nothing. I smiled to show goodwill and signed off the paper. But what’s that in the corner? Is that handwriting in blood… My eyes widened as adrenaline pumped through my veins. The huge solid chunks were likely…

“Human bones…“ I gasped in shock.

In that instant, the old man pulled out a gun and aimed it at my head. Making eye contact, I begged for mercy with sad eyes but his demeanor refused to change. The last thing I hear is a click.