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Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Short story: Escape from the slaughterhouse truck
Once I had gathered my bearings, the first thing that hit me was the smell. It was unbearable, still not too unfamiliar to my conditions before awakening in this place but even then I never became accustomed to the smell. The smell of urine and feces mixed with the scent of blood and rotting flesh. To accept these types of conditions is to lose all sense of compassion and humanity, which is ironic seeing that I am a pig. That’s right, Sus scrofa domesticus at your service and when I say service I don’t mean your breakfast. You can go ahead and get that idea out of your head right now, detestable I say! Detestable! Now where was I.....