Marinater's Dilemma

[OK. Well, A. Anthony is a friend of ours who works as a Marinater at the Prepared Beef Plant. He was supposed to give us a column on what exactly they do down there. A. Anthony hasn’t done that. He wants to be more “creative”. He’s decided to give us a story. It’s “based on a legend from the Tenth Floor Underground.” We’re a little… Never mind. Here’s the first installment. I’ve edited some of it where I thought the wording got a little crude. A. Anthony says he’ll have more to us in the “near future.” Enjoy.]

A Marinater’s Dilemma
Chapter 1:Good Enough To Eat?

-What’s wrong with your Johnnie’s, man?
-What? There’s nothing wrong with...what...what’re you doing paying so much attention to my Happy Steves?
-Lift the left one.
-Get out of here. Wash yourself and don’t look at me anymore.

Chet shrugged and had to make do with checking out Horrie’s scrot*m surreptitiously. There was something wrong.

Of course, it could have just been his eyes. It was steaming in here with 30 other men. One normally had to draw one’s attention away from the red and pine blood arcing along tile and flowing into the drain. But, today, Horrie’s area was...disquieting.

None of the other men seemed to notice it. Chet just considered himself a little more observant than your average Prepared Beef Marinater. Then, his brain slid into place and all the feeling he had about Horrie’s Baloncestos clicked: Prepared B*lls! That’s what it was.

-Stop peeking at me, Chet!
-Maybe you should see the doctor, Horrie.

The older man just grabbed his towel and left the stall. Other marinaters showered and soaked around him. Making the most of some industrial soap and some very hot water.

Prepared B*lls! Chet left the shower and went up to the Infirmary. He flipped through some texts on Common Ailments for the Marinater of Prepared Beefs and Beef By-Products. After several moments, of scan-around, there it was.

A picture of an old man with his pants around his ankles and Danglin’ Grampas that you could eat. Prepared Beef was good; everyone knows that. The people who work at the plant from Sub up knew that. It’s better than jerky. And, at Grey’s Prepared Beef Inc., the center of Turbot, it’s made the absolute right way.

The plant had a very rigorous hierarchy:
[This is what gets up my skirt. If A. Anthony had actually looked at the site he would have seen…yes, there it is. The layout of Grey’s Prepared Beef Plant in my posting from several weeks ago. I’ve omitted his writing with one exception.]

SUB10: The Marinaters home. Where Chet and Horrie worked. In large vats. And, here lay the secret of the Special Prepared Beef.

The Marinate has two Special Ingredients: The Dip and the Men’s Swinging Bubblers. The Vats are filled with Dip and suspended beef is lowered into it. Then, the nude men are brought in. Freshly showered and seasoned, they swim around in the vat and help prepare the meat. “It’s the musk from grown men’s la-las that make Grey’s Prepared Beef taste so good” was a slogan rejected early in the company’s career. But was, nevertheless, very, very, very true.

Horrie was a marinater. Chet was a marinater. And, they knew the risks. Too much time in the vats can prepare your biscuits like the beef around you. “Make your toddlers good enough to eat. Tender and juicy. Swimming in special sauce and blood all day’ll do that to a man.” Doc Sickler told them all one day.

Oh, one word of extra mention, the Beef has a very sour, red smell. That’s because, in the final half hour of the Marinate, the Blood of the Children is washed through to give it a little “extra, extra something.”

Prepared B*lls meant the end of your marinating career. A man with Jerky B*lls, well, you can’t marinate a chicken with another chicken. Substitute jerky b*lls for poultry.

If Horrie truly had Prepared B*lls, the man was out of a job. No Workers Comp for that. Only if you lose your trollers in the Dip, not if they become good enough to eat. You could sue. Dan Thurman tried that 36 years ago. But, you can imagine the embarrassing front-page photo.

Chet was scared. Scared for his buddy and his buddy’s b*lls. He had to talk to him.

Dashing past the local children getting ready to help the Dip to the elevator, he zipped up to the ground and stormed into the Check Point.

Tom, Tim, Jorge and Waldron would scan the men and women of the plant for Prepared Beef on their persons. The boys from SUB10 would have to drop ‘em behind a curtain for Waldron’s inspection.

Chet ran up as Horrie stepped from the screen, zipping his breakaway trousers up high.

-Hey Chet! Goin’ to Ornette’s tonight?
-Ummm...Horrie? Are you...?

Waldron, a lumpy man with a thing for collecting pig’s tails, barked at Chet if he was gonna get checked now or later.

-Yeah. Yeah, Waldron. In a sec.

The guard nodded and scratched his nose with a latex gloved thumb.

-Horrie, are you...?
-C’mon, Chet! It’s the end of the day! Let’s forget about each other’s schnuts ‘til morning. See you at the bar!

The older man pulled his friend’s arm and left.

As Chet dropped ‘em and was getting a quick probe around, he couldn’t help but wonder: if Horrie’s area was all right, what did he see in the shower that looked good enough to eat? The next logical thought confused him more. How did Horrie get by the guard with a ration of beef stuck to his body? And, why was Horrie stealing when he could get beef from the company for wholesale plus 7%?

These questions would buffet his brain. He could not let them go.