Welcome to Joe's Meat Emporium! On the corner of Line St. and Story Avenue, there is what is known as “the emporium that could,” which sells a variety of ̈home cooked meats such as ribs, loins, and the famous grilled sloppy chops! AsJoe would come out of his apartment upstairs and down a small hallway to his left, and the door to the stairs to the freezers below, he would enter what he called his ¨money making room,¨ he ́d be met with a beautiful soft smell of the cushioned smoke of his stove as he turned it on, followed by the orderly clacks of his light work boots as he walks across the checkered floor tiles in his shop, towards the hanging sign that dictated towards the hungering people outside whether or not he was ready for them. The heaters would continue to hum to clot out the frozen winds of the unforgiving winter outside, which would come from the door that made dings once every half hour, letting in new customers and hungry patients to fix up. Eventually, as the glass door dings, the cash register would ding, and the speakers would sing the kind of music that could calm the soul. The place was overall an 8/10 by customers entering, the home cooked meals and the overall kind sole manager made the place feel almost like a second home. However the so called ¨emporium¨ had a problem, one that lowered the score by 2, in which was the back of the store. It always was generally avoided, as the trash would make the place disgusting, clearly the only refuge from the smell of back-rot was the beautiful smell of the various meats that were grilled up for incoming customers. The day would pass joe by, with only a few smaller exceptions such as Joe´s most common regular, named Krstov. Krstov would enter every day after his work down at the local police station, and he would order a variety of things, his favorite being the cut sirloin steaks; in which he would also purchase some buns and make it into a beautiful sandwich. They would talk for an average of 2 hours as Joe manned the hatches, making each others dull lives easier. Each day was the same as the last, and Joe enjoyed it. Each day the smiling faces of his customers after eating his food kept him going, as well as his intense interest and love for cooking. His shining smile would always help the business, and helped cloud the irritation inside him when the bills came in at the end of each month. That always put a damper on things.

However something was different tonight, something slightly off. A new guy walks in, draped in soot clothing and overshadowing the comfortable smell of the shelves of commodities with the stench he exuded. ̈ ̈Yet new people are a good thing!..Right?̈ ̈ Joe would think. ̈So what if the lights dimmed a bit and the customers are uneasy.¨ From the looks of this guy, Joe had plenty of ideas to get to know him once he ordered. If he could even pay.

̈ ̈Welcome to Joe's-Meats-Emporium! What would you like on this chipper night, sir?̈ This is the standard greeting for newcomers. Other people always asked him how he could keep that child-like smile, even on the cold days like this, or even when the cities ́ bills would come in, and he would always say that smiling was his natural state. For some reason though, it felt hard to smile towards this man, just the aura gave off a bad feeling towards everyone around him.

̈ ̈Well..I think this looks good, could you tell me what it is? It sounds delicious!¨ The man said as he pointed down at the glass counter, where the various meats he sold were stacked. Normally, he would take it and throw it on the grill. It was a nice kind of restaurant where they cooked right in front of you. However, this time…

̈ ̈Ah! This is my personal favorite dish, the Bratwurst co- ̈ Joe leaned over as he pointed toward the dish that was the farthest from him; yet as he did it, his world suddenly sounded like it shattered, with black and white flashes speeding past his vision. When he got his vision back, it was at the cost of his breath and a cold metal barrel on his temple.

¨NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!¨ the man screamed, holding  joe by his left arm, with a gun in the right. Then to get a better position, he quickly hopped over the glass counter and got behind him.

̈ ̈Lis-Listen man! I'm just trying to get by here. I can't lose this money!̈ Joe said, desperately looking around the shop for other people to help.

̈ ̈Shut up and open the register, and your life will get by.̈ The man said, then covering Joe ́s mouth with his left arm, as he scanned the rest of the room. Everything seemed clear, until it felt like his legs bent and he momentarily fumbled his gun as he hunched forward.

Joe took this opportunity to bite the man's arm as hard as he could, because his life depended on it, he still had so much to do, so many smiles to see, so many opportunities still there for him; so for their sake, he bit harder and harder. Even through the man's screams as he pounds him in the head over, and over, and over again. Until his world gradually fades to black.

He wakes up once more, on a table of the restaurant, surrounded by unfamiliar policemen. For some reason, it feels like he had the best damn food he had in awhile. He looks to the people surrounding them, who hopefully can explain the situation. It turns out that Krstov was using the bathroom at the time, and came out to hear the man yelling. So he tried to tackle the man from behind.

unfortunately, the guy got away, running outwith a nasty arm bite and a handful of cash.̈ one guy said. ̈ ̈That fatass krstov couldn ́t chase a snail.¨ They start to laugh.

It felt as if Joe ́s heart dropped to the bottom of his gut as he began to remember. He just ate human. Ate. Human. Yet he didn't feel like throwing up, and he couldn't fathom why. Joethought and thought as he got off to go clean up the shop, which was completely smothered in the glass from the counter he got his head smashed into.

“Well atleast I ended the day with a huge surplus of meat” Joe thought. Yet that was the only real bright side he could see at the moment. He cooked up about 10 of his real favorite dishes, the sloppy chop, and headed to the back door of his shop. The stench met him as he opened the door to his regulars, or as customers would call them ̈homeless pigs.¨ Thankfully nobody found them yet, as his shop would be closed down for health reasons fairly quickly. He reached down to them and gave them some food. Newcomers look like they haven't eaten in days, and regulars say it's their only meal. I mean, somebody gotta do it right?

He finished feeding the people in the back of his shop, with one for his dinner. He headed up to his room, up the stairs which seemed to stab his feet for each step, and once he was up he grabbed some vegetables from his personal fridge, and made himself a real dinner. For some reason though, as he bit into his only reward for the hard day, his favorite dish tasted dull. Sure it was good, but it was not nearly as he remembered it. Not only that, but all it made him think of the taste in his mouth when he woke up. It was still faint. ̈Did it really taste that good?¨ he mumbled to himself as he stared down at his sloppy chop dinner, which seemed fairly pathetic the more he looked.

So Joe got up, and decided to test it for himself. He walked back down his stairs, grabbing some various other meats from the broken counter, and threw them on the grill. How would he like that? He thought. He always had a passion for meats, even his first memory was biting into a nice grilled porkchop. Yet something irked at the back of his soul, as the lights dimmed in the room he stood in, but he just couldn't put a finger on the feeling. He finished the various dishes and put them on the table, and the place smelled like the restaurant was open for business. That soft smell of delicious cooked dishes was overshadowed by disparate spikes of cold anxiety, even though he didn't know exactly what he was trying to prove to himself. Unfortunately, it's too late to put the meat away. ¨Guess the meat is gonna have to be a bit less fresh tomorrow,¨ Joe thought. He took a fork and shakily took a piece of the first dish he prepared, the bratwurst combo. Finally, he took a bite.

Normally, when somebody asked him what his food tasted like, he would compare them to glorious fireworks in the sky. Blasting different colors and shapes, lighting up the days of everybody who took a bite...But there was nothing. Just a cold and dark night. He sighed, and without even looking at the other dishes he preparedHe climbed up the stairs with twice the steps, opened the door, and swept off the swarm of locusts that the city called ¨bills.¨ What did he do to deserve this?

Joe woke up the next morning, falling out of bed and putting on his clothes from the day before. It was a new daybut not much could be done to make this one any better. He headed down the stairs, down the small hallway to the left, and the stairs leading to the freezer below,entering what he called ̈the money making room.¨ The dishes from the night before looked stale and nasty, so he threw them out. ‘Guess I’ll have to pull out some old freezer meat”. He looked around the room with a reminiscent look on his face, conspiring with a soft smile that somebody might have just cursed him for getting their order wrong or something. And almost on cue, he heard quite the demanding knock at the barred door to his shop. 

“How can I help you?” Joe asked, as he opened the door for the suit-bearing gentlemen.

“Just the mail, sir.” Joe's heart sunk. “Looks like some important stuff in there, you know,” the mailman said as he handed the large amounts of letters.

“You know it's illegal to look at other people’s mail, right?” Joe scolded as he gave a dirty look.

“Maybe if I didn't have to carry a mountain of your mail every other day, I wouldn't.” The mailman said, as he walked to the next door shop.

“Prick.” Joe thought, as he stood at the entrance shuffling through the bills. He shuffled through the various envelopes, and one stuck out to him the most. It was from his bank that lent him the loan for his business, and it had a big “EMERGENCY” labelled on top of it. “Better to open it now, then,” he thought as he almost forgot his surroundings. He cut open the letter and took out a single piece of paper. However as he read and read, his expression shifted, and his heart began to fade further and further as he read; until finally it seemed to disappear. The expecting wordings on the letter battered him as he stood there, unable to comprehend, and it snuffed out his soul.

Joe was a statue, struck to stand in that spot at the door for eternity, and his mind felt as empty as a statue too. As he stared into the sheet, barely recognizing the freezing wind on his cheeks, he remembered a short conversation with his regular, Krstov.

“ So, you said you were havin trouble with the wife lately, did’ya have fun with that?” Joe asked, as he leaned against the corner of the glass counter, deep in conversation.

Krstov laughed. “If I had any fun in it, I’d be a damn masochist. Who knew that forgetting a birthday had so many consequences?” He asked. “My worst fear is if I forgot our anniversary!” They laughed a hearty laugh in the corner, as jazz played in the background. “Speaking of fears, I don’t think I ever heard yours. We all got one in this city.” Joe pondered at the question, till he looked around and felt it came to him. 

“Now that I think about it, it’d probably be losing this business,” Joe replied. “Losing the opportunity to make all this good food for everybody here puts a right shiver down my spine.” 

“Wow.” Krstov replied. “I was gonna say rats or something, but I feel kind of stupid about that now.”

That's right. This kind of thing would be the worst thing possible for him. He lived for this job, for this passion…

So why did he feel so empty about it? Joe would question himself, as his nerves regained control, screaming at him to go back inside, somewhere warm. He listened, but not for long. He needed to see a visual reminder of why he was here. So he walked back in, past the counter with no glass, and took a left down the hall, towards the freezery downstairs. He opens the door, taking in the returning chill; walking towards the meats hanging from the hooks off the ceiling. This was his living; how he supported the customers hungry bellies, the needy’s only meal, and his source of the smile for his customers faces.

Yet this was different, why was it that his whole life was about giving to others? Why couldn’t he serve himself? Why was it that whenever he was alone, it was just taking care of his needs, and getting ready for another day? Did he really get anything out of this? As joe thought these things, something new began to build in his heart. It felt hot, burning him up in this freezing cellar, making his jaw clench, his eyes burning into the one of the pigs hanging from the hooks above. Just looking at these meats pissed him off, and he couldn’t tell why. How could he live like this? How could others come in and just change his life like that?

Why can’t he shake this feeling of desire for taking something back!?

It felt like a switch flipped in his mind, and he grabbed his knife for cutting the pigs and plunged into it, each puncture making up for each wrong in his life, every change he made for other people, and for every year he spent trying to appease others. Each thrust of the knife satiating the things he had missed, and the desires he had for so long bottled up. He carved and cleaved into the hanging meat,the sound tickling his ears, the warm blood dripping on his face and arms...Warm blood? Joe stopped and slowly opened up his eyes…

And he saw the man who started it all.

Joe fell onto his back and elbows, and screamed. The man had slashes and lines all over him, and the look on his face could only be described as a man who had entered the 7th circle of hell. The warm liquid pouring from the man's body seemed to hold to Joe, and a few drips fell into his mouth as he continued to howl. It was then and there that he had tasted it again.. The taste of the man. His mouth silenced itself, and his eyes drooped down towards the man's arm, seeing the bite mark still there, almost as fresh as when he made it. The taste felt like it consumed him, it felt as though his awareness disappeared as he slowly stood, stumbling on his legs that he forgot he had. Someone, anyone but him took a step forward. Then another step forward, and another, until he reached the hanging man. His eyes bored into the man’s arm, as he reached out and held his hand. He slowly lifted the arm, and brought it to his face. This was it, every cell in his body screamed for it; so it’s jaw slowly pried open, saliva smothering it’s chin, and took the bite.

It was better than any sloppy chops he had ever made. It tasted like the finest pork a man could ever get, a bomb of orange and red nuking his taste buds; he felt he needed more, so much more! He wanted to eat and eat and eat until there was nothing left but bones, yet when he went for another bite he heard a soft knock. His entire body jolted, and it looked back to the man to see only a hanging pig.

“Hey, is everything alright in there? You sounded like you died in there!” Joe’s own voice yelled inside.

He stared at the door, felt the taste in his mouth; and appeared to salivate.