Work Text:
WELS:
So you’re willing to listen to me, right?
GRIAN:;
Yes we tend to be a bit more uh, lenient with the subject of the statements we take.
WELS:
That’s perfect because this is going to get really weird.
GRIAN:
Before you continue, could I do the introduction so that we may officially begin your statement?
WELS:
Uhh, yeah, sure
GRIAN:
Splendid. Statement of Wels Knight regarding err, what is this regarding?
WELS:
Where do you want me to start? The meat craze? Weird eyes? The limb carving?
GRIAN:
Just from the days leading up to the meeting is fine.
WELS:
Well then it’s about a weird few weeks I had at my local butcher which led to me having a meat addiction? I hope this type of scenario becomes rarer for me. Eh? Get it?
GRIAN:
I’m just going to ignore that. Statement of Wels Knight regarding a strange encounter with his butcher. Statement taken direct from subject, July 13th, 2022. Audio recording by Grian, Head Archivist of the Void Institute, London.
Statement begins.
WELS (STARTS GIVING STATEMENT)
Well, I’ve been going to this butcher shop, the uhh Vintage Meats right next to the Beefy Tunes music shop that I’m pretty sure is owned by the same guy. The store is a small gray building with one front window and a small door in the center of the wall. After a short staircase, the inside of the store simply holds a single wide display counter with some shelves holding various spices and seasonings. I’ve lived near the shop for a sizable amount of time now. It’s really quite a nice place to be so I’ve been visiting frequently for a few years at this point. I’m only a history professor, so I just get some small stuff mostly, though his marinations are excellent. Although that’s probably not something you care about. I came here because of what’s been happening during my visits there for the past few weeks or so.
There I was, browsing the counter and thinking about the frankly ridiculous number of pork cuts and flavors when Beef, the owner of Vintage Meats, started getting a little shaky and pale. I asked him if he was alright, and he said he had been experiencing some chronic pain. I remember thinking that it probably wasn’t a great idea to be so shaky while needing to handle so many sharp knives. Since I’ve had a little experience with tendinitis after a LARPing accident a while back I recommended that he try some physical therapy. From my experience I said, it would help him feel like a new man. He seemed to genuinely listen to what I said and nodded. I finally decided on what to get and bought a cut of pork shoulder for braising, which later turned out to be an excellent decision, and left the store.
I didn’t think anything of it then, but I started to have a craving again for more meat. Though I don’t remember walking there, I somehow found myself in front of the shop. When I pushed through the door and heard the bells dangling I was met with the display counter. For some reason that even now I can’t place, I thought that it looked too vacant, even though it held just as much as the last time I was there. I stared at what was available, but in my head I knew that I wouldn’t feel satiated by whatever I got. I asked Beef if he would consider supplying some more variety of meat and he said he was actually planning to expand his selection pretty soon. That was excellent news so I settled for a small sirloin and promised that I’d be back very soon.
Around now, I had to be grading my students' end of the year finals, so it was a longer amount of time than normal when I finally got back to the butcher’s. The itch in my mind seemed to grow gradually a little stronger the more time that passed since I had gone to the store. I finally got a chance to go and I practically sprang on it with a vigor I didn’t really notice at the time. I headed into the store as normal, but when I entered the doorway, the counter was absolutely stuffed with various meats, some I had never seen before. This was incredibly exciting as I started to look through all the options there. I settled on a large flank which was marked at an incredibly low price. When I asked Beef what kind of meat it was he just kind of shrugged and mumbled something about goat or llama I think. That didn’t really matter to me and I got it without hesitation. When I had looked at him to ask about the species, I’d noticed something strange with his face and asked him if he wore contacts. He hastily dismissed my curiosity and checked me out swiftly. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it through my current meat craving, but the next time I saw him he was wearing heavily tinted aviator sunglasses. Any questions I asked about those were also brushed away. Thankfully I was now able to take full advantage of the diversity within his display case so I didn’t continue asking.
That brings us to my latest visit to Vintage Meats butcher shop. I was thinking about meat almost constantly now. Looking back on it, I don’t think it seemed at all strange to me. This dependency had grown so much, I found myself at Vintage Meats doorstep just about after sunset when it was starting to get dark enough. Though, once again, I didn’t remember choosing to go there. I was surprisingly worried that it was closed, but the OPEN sign was still on the door and I could hear noises inside the building. The bell dinged as I opened the door and the noises seemed to go quiet. Then there was a faint cry of pain behind the door connecting to the meat counter. There was a small circular window so I could see Beef back there, cutting some meat into cubes, for stew I assumed. I kept watching him work, as I was entranced by the speed at which he chopped and sliced. I must have made a noise since Beef’s head snapped to look at me and he stepped his way out through the door. He wasn’t wearing the sunglasses, so I could clearly see that his eyes seemed to swirl and dance with too many colors.
He was looking me up and down as if assessing how he should prepare me for his counter. He wasn’t doing anything that threatening, but he was inadvertently brandishing butcher's tools and was covered in some viscera as he came closer so I’ll admit it frightened me a little, even through my meat-addled mind. I turned to dash out the door but when I pushed through it I found myself in a hallway with numerous closed metal doors, though the walls and floors matched the humble interior of the shop. I could hear a buzzing like machinery behind those doors and turned to see Beef continuing to follow me. I remember feeling like livestock, slowly ambling to a certain demise. He reached out his hand towards me and I quickly pushed through the closest door which opened into a massive space. The factory was cold and metal and carcasses suspended on hooks along with cuts of meat circulated throughout the whole room. It was impossibly large for the size of the butcher's shop, but instead of observing its size, I rushed to dodge through the machinery to get away from Beef.
I cut my knee on a blade as I was running. I braced myself on the wall and tumbled to the ground. I pulled myself backwards on the cold concrete floors and backed into a white, sterile wall. Beef was getting closer, but there was something I hadn’t seen before. He had a look of sadness in his eyes as he stopped a few feet away from where I was. He simply said “I’m sorry you had to see this, you’re a good customer”. He then grabbed what seemed to be a cow leg based on the size that was rolling by on a hook. He set it on a stationary conveyor belt near him and started to cut chunks out of the meat with an expertise clearly gained from years of experience.
Then he did something even worse. He started to carve pieces out of his arms and torso, moving his clothing so that he could reach the exposed skin. These new holes didn’t really seem to bleed like a chunk of that size should. He took those pieces of meat and started to fit them into the cavities he had made. The meat started to squirm and filled out his cavity and seemed to melt until it was his normal skin again. It looked pink and fresh and almost like scar tissue. He thanked me and said that this whole idea had been because of me. I was too in shock to really understand but he continued to speak anyway. He said that he had suffered full-body pain for a while before I recommended that he try physical therapy. When I said “new man” it gave him an idea. If it was his flesh that hurt, then he’d just have to swap that out for some that didn’t. It was a perfect plan, to him at least.
With his new, pink arm he slung me over his shoulder with incredible strength and brought me to one of the doors. I was a bit too terrified to move so I didn’t squirm that much. Then I felt the cool night air on my face and could see the streetlamps of this small alley as he set me to the ground. The door closed behind me and when I turned to follow its noise, the store was silent and all the lights were off. The sign had even been changed to CLOSED. I walked home on that cloudy night and made it all the way to my apartment when I realized that there was a hand sized package in my pocket wrapped in brown paper. I only had to hold it to realize it was a steak. I knew about your institute from some articles my University has done so I came over a few days later.
GRIAN:
What did you do with that steak?
WELS:
Well, I ate it. It would have been a shame to toss it.
GRIAN:
That does not seem like a smart choice. Didn’t you get cut on your leg so that you could barely walk? How did you get home?
WELS:
Oh, well I kind of forgot about it then, but when I saw the skin, it had cleanly healed over with a light fresh scar
GRIAN:
But that’s not possible! How could it have healed that quickly!
WELS:
Personally, the speed at which my leg healed is the least of my concerns, especially after what caused the cut. Now if you don’t have any more questions, can I go now?
GRIAN:
Yes, I suppose you can go.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Well, statement ends.
(END CLICK)
(OPENING CLICK)
GRIAN (ARCHIVIST):
After a bit of follow up, Vintage Meats certainly exists as a butcher shop in the area Mr. Knight described. We found that the building was legally owned by the same Vintage Beef whose statement I have read earlier. Though, the ownership of the adjoining music shop “Beefy Tunes'' is of dubious legality. Regardless, I had Mumbo visit the store to ask some questions because of his, err “experience” relating to strange food happenings. I also wanted to follow up on two missing persons cases that had been reported in the area.
According to Mumbo, Beef was there and was incredibly helpful and cheerful. Though I warned Mumbo not to purchase anything he bought a small jar of seasoning. I’ll have to speak with him about this highly unprofessional behaviour. I have notified Xisuma to put Beef on a high surveillance list, we must keep our eye on him.
End recording.
(END CLICK)