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Life In A Cows Perspective

 

I came to a large warehouse filled with meats filling my nostrils with the stench of stale pork and beef.  A tour comes telling me of the wonders of a grinder and I real with disgust.  Perhaps it was guilt of eating meat or it was the pain of listening to a wearisome tour guide from a meat processing plant.  He was a pasty looking white man who looked like he went home and dreamed of the women he had never gone out with- quite sickly looking.

The meat was packed if not 20, 40 feet high.  The only question about the meats were- why are they in here?  There weren’t any living cows in sight.  There were also no doors going out of this warehouse.  No trucks.  No people but the tour guide and myself.  Why was I in here?

I could only distinguish what the problem was until I was in that warehouse indefinitely.  I had become the meat.

 

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