"the butcher and the butterfly" - queen adreena

The butcher's wife was a rather frail woman of about thirty five, though she looked older. The butcher's wife sat in church beside her husband every Sunday. She was rather unmoved by the sermons and the glass Jesus in the window. His sunlit gore did not disturb her (like it should all respectable women) nor did it particularily arouse her unlike(everyone knew the hawson's boy was a fag-sadist-pervert, he was raised out west three counties. but this is beside the point. the hawson boy perhaps liked the stripped gory jesus but the butcher's wife did not.) others. The butcher's wife, as could be expected, was not disturbed by gore. The butcher's wife sucked her husband's dick in the back of the store, his arms to the elbows in guts. His arms to the elbows in pig's blood quite like the doctor who had delivered their first miscarriage. But that doctor was a slanty-eyed Chinaman (born in michigan to a korean mother and an irish father) who could barely speak English (it was his minor in college) and the butcher's wife's husband had blue eyes so they could not have been the same person. When they sat in church together (that is, the butcher and the butcher's wife, not the half-asian doctor) sometimes she (being the butcher's wife, not the miscarried child) would flip through the hymnal books, searching for new and exciting ways to cook meat so her husband would love her more and be able to keep it up longer. Unfortunately all she ever found were songs about Jesus and his bloody lesions, which, on any animal, would signal disease and the substandard meat would be discarded or fed to Korean children in China with medical degrees and Irish fathers, but the point is that the butcher's wife sucked her husband's dick as he rubbed pig guts into her hair, which was an unsanitary practice and would never have been allowed in the hospital.