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Bloody Bones :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 226 из 272"Why not have the other goats up here on top? It's going to be a trek to get them up here every time."
I shrugged. "First, they'd panic. Second, it seems cruel for them to watch their friends bite the dust, knowing they're next."
"My zoology prof would say you're humanizing them."
"Let him. I know they feel pain, and fear. That's enough."
Larry looked at me for a long moment. "You don't like doing it either."
"No. You want to help hold or feed the carrot?"
"Carrot?"
I dug a carrot, complete with leafy green top, out of the bag.
"Was that what you got in the grocery store while I waited in the car with the goats?"
"Yeah."
I held the carrot up in the air. The goat strained to the end of its picket line, towards the carrot. I let the goat lip the leafy top. It bleated and strained towards me. I let him get a little more leaf. His stubby little tail started wagging. Happy goat.
I handed Larry the silver bowl. "Put it on the ground under the throat. When the blood starts coming, catch as much as you can."
I had the machete behind my back in my right hand, carrot in my left. I felt like a child's dentist. No, nothing behind my back. Pay no attention to that huge needle. Except this needle was permanent.
The goat yanked most of the leaves off the carrot, and I waited while it snaked them up into its mouth. Larry knelt beside it, bowl on the ground. I offered the meat of the carrot to the goat. It got a taste of it, and I drew the carrot out, out, until the goat strained its neck out as far as it could, trying to get more of the hard orange flesh.
I laid the machete against the hairy throat, not cutting, gentle. The neck vibrated against the blade, straining for the carrot. I drew the blade across the neck.
The machete was sharp, and I had practice. There was no sound, only the shocked, widened eyes, and blood pouring from the neck.
Larry picked up the bowl, holding it under the wound. Blood splashed down his arms onto the blue t-shirt. The goat collapsed to its knees. Blood filled the bowl, dark and glinting, more black than red.
"There's bits of carrot in the blood," Larry said.
"It's alright," I said. "Carrot's inert."
The goat's head fell slowly forward until it touched the ground. The bowl sat under its throat, filling with blood. It had been nearly a perfect kill. Goats could be sort of pesky, but sometimes, like tonight, it all worked. Of course, we weren't done.
I laid the bloody knife against my left arm and sliced it open. The pain was sharp and immediate.
I shrugged. "First, they'd panic. Second, it seems cruel for them to watch their friends bite the dust, knowing they're next."
"My zoology prof would say you're humanizing them."
"Let him. I know they feel pain, and fear. That's enough."
Larry looked at me for a long moment. "You don't like doing it either."
"No. You want to help hold or feed the carrot?"
"Carrot?"
I dug a carrot, complete with leafy green top, out of the bag.
"Was that what you got in the grocery store while I waited in the car with the goats?"
"Yeah."
I held the carrot up in the air. The goat strained to the end of its picket line, towards the carrot. I let the goat lip the leafy top. It bleated and strained towards me. I let him get a little more leaf. His stubby little tail started wagging. Happy goat.
I handed Larry the silver bowl. "Put it on the ground under the throat. When the blood starts coming, catch as much as you can."
I had the machete behind my back in my right hand, carrot in my left. I felt like a child's dentist. No, nothing behind my back. Pay no attention to that huge needle. Except this needle was permanent.
The goat yanked most of the leaves off the carrot, and I waited while it snaked them up into its mouth. Larry knelt beside it, bowl on the ground. I offered the meat of the carrot to the goat. It got a taste of it, and I drew the carrot out, out, until the goat strained its neck out as far as it could, trying to get more of the hard orange flesh.
I laid the machete against the hairy throat, not cutting, gentle. The neck vibrated against the blade, straining for the carrot. I drew the blade across the neck.
The machete was sharp, and I had practice. There was no sound, only the shocked, widened eyes, and blood pouring from the neck.
Larry picked up the bowl, holding it under the wound. Blood splashed down his arms onto the blue t-shirt. The goat collapsed to its knees. Blood filled the bowl, dark and glinting, more black than red.
"There's bits of carrot in the blood," Larry said.
"It's alright," I said. "Carrot's inert."
The goat's head fell slowly forward until it touched the ground. The bowl sat under its throat, filling with blood. It had been nearly a perfect kill. Goats could be sort of pesky, but sometimes, like tonight, it all worked. Of course, we weren't done.
I laid the bloody knife against my left arm and sliced it open. The pain was sharp and immediate.