Words Worth A Thousand Pictures

Crushing the Cliche That A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

For A Piece Of Meat

After sixteen weeks three days seven hours and thirty-six minutes at sea, we were consumed by one thing and one thing only. I lay awake deep into every night fantasizing, mouth watering, about the moment when I would get mine. I knew the other boys were doing the same.

Towards the end, our superior officers gave up and called off all training; nothing broke through the haze of our daydreams. The water bumping rhythmically sang a chorus of pure desire, a primal humming intensifying the pressure.

Gripping our briefcases tightly, we scrambled off the boat before it even touched the dock, leaping across the chasm effortlessly.

We prowled in packs, eyes, ears, noses rigid and alert, exploring the air, probing for clues.

“Guys, check it out!” I hissed. A low whistle shuddered through the group. A quick pause to pinch ourselves internally.

“Just what we’ve been dying for,” moaned Francisco.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” shouted Reggie.

We bolted in unison, shoving two bimbos out of the way, clawing our way through the crowd to get to the hamburger stand.

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5 thoughts on “For A Piece Of Meat

  1. David Crowther on said:

    I knew something was up as I read just because I know you. Even so, I chuckled.

  2. Marie Palmer on said:

    Oh gosh, I hate this one. That is said with love, and you know you need some opposition. I’ll go write on the others now how much I love them and couldn’t stop reading even though I really should right now.

  3. Heather Burton on said:

    Honestly, Stephen, you’ve got the primal thing down. Nice switch, but why am I blushing?

  4. Heather Burton on said:

    By the way, the photo is stinking excellent. I hate it; I get it.

  5. James on said:

    Ever heard the old adage about how only criminals can understand the criminal mind?

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