We call it the Meat Truck
There are a lot of nice things about my new house. One of those things is that, while we're right next to a light industrial park, the building directly across from us is a sausage manufacture. We are often greeted by the smell of smoking meat and spices when we step outside. It's pleasant.
But it has a cost. Every Wednesday morning at around 7:30, an unmarked tan garbage truck drives up to the back of the building and loads the slop. That is, all the stuff that is technically meat, but can't be made into sausage. Think about that. And it loads it by hauling the slop bin over its cab and dumping it into the back of the truck. This is what we watch, every Wednesday.
And we watch. Man, I wouldn't miss it. It's horrifying and disgusting and just...awful. But it's also fascinating. We can't hear it or smell it, but I have a sufficiently vile imagination that I can populate my own internal soundtrack of smacking and schlupping and slithering. And when it's done, there are still strips of the stuff that didn't quite land in the bin, hanging like meaty confetti off the cross bar of the truck.
You're welcome. Enjoy your lunch.