The question, for all the time you have knew, was asked inside your mind, and went as long unanswered: If I eat a five pound bucket of shredded barbeque beef in a single sitting, am I still fit to live on this earth among the other humans? Would I deserve that?
You purchased the bucket of pulverized cow flesh not on a whim, but from a deep and clawing need to let the truth of the matter be known. Should a man consume such a thing, would he be welcomed any longer into the home of a civilized man, be they friend, family or stranger?
You brought the bucket home and opened it right there on the kitchen counter, retrieving a fork from the silverware drawer, but no plates. It came in a convenient container, you told yourself, not realizing the beef (product) had already begun to take hold of you.
Scoop by dangling, meaty scoop you feasted upon the tattered remnants of once noble aurochs’ inbred, retarded descendant. As you descended deeper into the bucket of barbeque-flavored bovine sinew, you descended deeper, also, into the meat madness.
You abandoned your fork, no longer a sufficient utensil to sate your ravenous hunger. You sunk your hands, now malformed claws, into the soft, cold tendrils of whatever kind of meat this was (you supposed it was whatever got caught in the machine) and brought great heaping handfuls of the stuff to your gaping maw.
You reached the bottom of the bucket and gave out a triumphant howl, like a wolf after his first kill. You tore your clothes from your body and fled into the night, knowing the beast you had become could no longer masquerade as the man you once thought you were.
The wondering, you thought, was the hardest part, but now you think knowing the answer may be worse. You can never go back.
The beef has you.