Mupps Farm (part two)

Robert had made it down to today’s lesson and the calf was ready. This very small private holding yard and run was not like any other small-scale farm abattoir or indeed like the real Mupps Farm Meat yards and kill floor. It had an adaptation of a standard crush and gate system which offered a full rotation and height adjustment to cater for the size of the animal and the human doing the work. The floor, wall, ceiling and all fittings were all sealed and highly polished and each directed the resulting liquids into the substantial floor drain network. The hose down covered every aspect of the room. Nothing escaped the water blasting, cold, then hot then a brew of sanitising / disinfectant washed it all down. The unique feature of this private space was that it was maintained as clean and germ-free as a hospital operating room. The best facility ever devoted to killing life and not saving it. The anti-room, entryway allowed the animal to be dealt with and the track system could them slide the animal to the next more public stage.

 

The gates, crush and fasteners in the room could restrain a human. In fact, it was built for that very purpose. Even though he was only 5 Robert would progress quickly, until then, a calf.

 

It really was a tight little community in Mullimboy. The Local Government office was a hotbed of incestuous employment opportunities and inter-office relationships. Nepotism reigned supreme. So much so the local paper the Mullimboy Daily News, one of the lame arsed names for a newspaper, ran weekly updates of the comings and goings. The comings were sniggered at while the goings usually followed a court case involving corruption in contracts, supply and favours and the like.

 

The tales of supposedly well-educated men and women would boil water if the whole truth is revealed, but snippets of info concerning those educated folk and the outdoor staff were enough for the locals. It was too much for the Mayor of course. Warren Silver was a complete buffoon who managed to convince the muppets who voted that he was worthy of the lofty office, chains, robes and the new Range Rover Evoque the Council provided.

 

Warren had an assistant who was so much a sycophant that even Warren was embarrassed. The aim of the personal assistant was pretty clear but Roger had lifted it to a new level of servitude. Once at the conclusion of an incredibly rambunctious community meeting Karen and Roger left in a slight scream of wheels and head back to the office. As often with men of a certain age, an urgent need to pee hit on the way. As this evacuation came to a close the rather helpful Roger lent in to provide the last shake as his master concluded a vigorous phone call. Warren put a firm stop to that behaviour and identified strict boundaries for Roger to remain behind. It worked. Roger was able to stay on his side of the grovelling barrier. He did so with an increasing amount of satisfaction.

 

Robert knew nothing of the world, other than details and experiences gathered from school, home life and his father. Charlie and Sally were the source of truth, the setting of a moral compass and the explanation of things seen and heard in any news Robert happened to see or hear. There was a news crew at the farm once and Robert was facing, so much so the crew involved him in the story. Charlie and Sally managed to remain off camera. Their voiceovers were used but the only Robertson on camera was young Robert. Crap from school was just that, but the perspective and training to identify nonsense, gossip and exaggerate ration was provided by Charlie.

 

Having returned to the house to rustle lunch and successfully reaching the ringing landline phone, Sally yelled out to Charlie.

 

“It’s Warren asking for another favour.”

 

Charlie hit the flashing extension button … "What’s holding up your pants Warren?”

 

“Not much this morning, Roger’s in a meeting, you cheeky fucker, could you please reconsider joining the Business Leaders Alliance (BLA)? we need cleaver buggers like you to drive things along and what’s more, you’ll be rewarded by the good burghers of Mullimboy and you may well sell heaps more meat”

 

“Warren I can’t do it mate, I’ve got extensions to the Meat Hut and accreditation for the American market coming up and just don’t have the time or headspace to offer the focus required. I’m sorry but up to my armpits in slaughtered meat just at the minute. I’ll see you later on in the week, but I can’t be joining the BLA.

 

“Alright” … Warren mumbled …“see ya.”

 

Ok mate - cheers … Charlie prepared to commence today’s training session. He wasn’t lying about the American market but the application and so-called accreditation or acceptance of the offer wasn’t for supplying meat. I was for turning good humans into meat.

 

Robert grabbed the knife as instructed and like the Police talking out their driving in a pursuit, turn left, change up to third hear, approaching roundabout etc, Robert quoted the steps he’d learnt and with a will to follow one after the other he started on one. The huge cow-eyed calf had no idea of what was happening and simply stared at the freshly cleaned white wall as the life drained out if it.

 

 

Once the initial pressurised release splattered all the surfaces within reach the blood flowed like maple syrup over a stack of pancakes, only in this case it flowed down over the calf and onto the floor below. This forceful rain of blood covered Robert and Charlie as was planned, but both had planned to remain clean under the crisp white outfits designed by Charlie and Anne. The one piece boots, overalls, headgear and face coverings were impregnable, and no matter what they immersed themselves into the liquid would not get in. It was as hot as blazes inside but they weren’t worn for long and only once. The removal of the suit components was as strict as the handling of every aspect of the killing and disposal. If anything remained the evidence would be rather damning.  

 

Robert had handled the knick kill slice perfectly and the resulting blood letting had not worried him at all.

 

“That was perfect Robert … are you ready for the next step?”

 

Robert was very ready and was somewhat excited that he’d pleased his Dad and was very ready to do so again. “Yes Dad, I’m ready”

 

“OK then, find the start of the neck muscle under the chin and separate the other facial muscles while it’s still supported by the crush.” … Charlie had designed the crush supports so that most of the dissection could be carried out while the subject was held, the hoisting by the feet was only to allow for the final stage. “That’s it Robert, now move around to the other side.”

 

Robert was grinning, sweating and breathing heavy inside the suit. He was getting used to it as his Dad had made him stay in it for two hours a day for three days, both getting used to wearing it as well as putting it on and taking it off. He was yet to learn what happened to it after it went down the chute in the wall. But he knew everything they touched had to go down there. The suspended meat went along the rails into another room. The final separation and preparation was carried out in there. Robert had not yet entered that room.

 

Sally was pottering about in the house and sang her heart out. She was usually involved in the research, planning and fieldwork, not in the “meat hut”. She was aware of course as to how it all worked and the risks involved but wasn’t needed in that aspect of their growing business. She ran the business from her office.

 

The marketing of their growing skill set and tightened expertise proved to be very tricky. They called themselves Bobbies Birthday Party Planners. BBPP offered no advertisements at all, no Facebook, no Twitter, Instagram or Pinterest, no newspaper or killer for hire ads in fortune hunter type magazines. It was all by word of mouth. Even then it was an ever changing code and heavily encrypted. They’d spied a method or two in Hollywood films, Day of the Jackal, The Account to name two. The re-routing of ISP accounts bouncing about and the strict disposal of hardware after use seemed to work for all concerned. The customer referring the benefits of using BBPP to their friends or associates were provided with a one use only url that would send the person they’d recommended to use BBPP to the first step in the lengthy chain. With each step screening out law enforcement or lucky clowns accidentally landing onto the communication page. BBPP was known to be very careful and swift in retribution if someone, happy client or not, stepped out of the agreed procedure. An ex-client and his family lived no more as a result of his stupidity. It was these four that ended up in the back of Anne’s van. 

 

Sally had organised the house, herself and the plans for Robert’s trip into town. He was often allowed to join Charlie and Sally when they went into town for dinner. They wanted him to become a master at learning social etiquette, how to talk to all sorts of folks and how to tell truth from exaggeration and outright bullshit. Mullimboy was able to provide people and situations that supplied all options.

 

Robert and Charlie finished with the calf for today and left the pieces in the crush to continue on tomorrow. The dropped the suits, the knives down the chute, showered, dressed and walked back up to the house laughing at Charlies silly dad jokes. Robert found his new outfit laid out on his bed for tonights soirée in town. He was to be styling denim on denim with the RM Williams boots, just like his Dad’s. He was very happy and showered again as was required and dressed. 

 

It was on a night out like this where I met the Browns, although I’d soon learn that wasn’t their real name.