Meet the murderer...
The best part of the churrasco was choosing a cut. A heavy, serrated knife would butcher the meat. Watching today’s beef sizzle, Mig imagined it begging to leave the fire and take this hasty end. Still rare and bloody, eating it now would feed the animalistic desire, to hunt and devour, which modern men are taught to repress. This instinct lays dormant in all men – most try to ignore it, or even deny its existence. But Mig knew. He embraced it. It separated him from other men and would bring him his goal.
An escapee spot of fat leapt from the meat to his forearm and the burn snapped Mig out of the daydream. Minutes must have passed. This afternoon’s carne had been neglected and now his most delicate knife was needed. This knife was the type seen in films where a victim is punctured by the wound and takes a moment to notice. The trio of shock, begging and then deflation was always magnificent. A reaction that dead animals can’t replicate. Nevertheless, this knife was perfect for slicing bloodless, barbecued brown shavings of the meat. Uma delícia.
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