The Slaughterhouse

Well Hello There

Well Hello there.

Augustus Bloat is an abhorrent man. Even before all this happened I disliked him, everyone did. I just liked working with the animals and so I tolerated him more than most.

Hmmmmm....Augustus Bloat, where do I start? He's a big, fat, ugly, sweaty, miserable, cantankerous, rotten toothed old bastard. Oh yeah, he's also a murderer.

How do I know that? Well, because he murdered me of course. I'm watching him now, going about the daily routine of feeding the pig, sheep and lambs. The calves will be next, then the chickens, then the rabbits who I am not too keen on. Last but not least are my favourites, the goats and their kids. Well, I should put that in past tense, seeing as I'm dead.... Toast.... Gone.... Disappeared.... Deceased....Departed....whatever you want to call it, but dead is dead and that's me.

Dead as dead can be.

No..... I refuse to not like the goats, they're still my favourites even though I'm dead. I think I'll hang on to humanity a bit longer if you don't mind. Unlike Bloat who is now kicking the piglets across the pen, I'm not sure if I should feel anger anymore, but I do. He's now taunting the sow, making high pitched squeals with his big fat face as the piglets cower in the corner to keep away from him.

Leave the animals alone you big bloody bully.

Are you wondering why he murdered me? It's funny, because as a ghost, which is what I think I am now, I don't value time as I used too. With that in mind you're going to have to indulge me a little more as I first tell you about myself. The description of my ultimate demise will come later, but first let me tell you a little about myself, you blood thirsty ghouls!

My name was, or is, Charlie O'Malley. I am, was, from .....Do you know what, I've made a decision and I'm going to reference myself in the past tense. I think it's only right. So to carry on, my name was Charlie O'Malley. I was from a strict Irish catholic family. So if you're reading this I guess you had better change the accent you were using in your head, to my proper one, a deep, strong Irish one.

My family moved to England forty seven years ago, when I was seven. So those mathematicians among you will have worked out I'm fifty five.....only joking fifty four I am. Damn this is strange, being dead n'all. My Da always told us to keep our accents, it's what defines us, he would say. A great hard working man my Da. Died when he was young, so sad. Lung cancer if you're wondering, smoked a pipe from when he was seven.

I was fifty four when I was murdered, still a young man I think, well at least young at heart. My Irish eyes still had a twinkle in them, by God did they have a twinkle! Especially for the Barmaid at the Minted Lamb down the road.

Joan Aldridge, by she were a beautiful woman, well she still is. I shouldn't refer to her in the past tense, I'm the one who's dead....Croaked.... Bit the big one. I was planning to ask her out, I'd have taken her to somewhere fancy, but not now. Such is life, or death, depending how you think of it. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this past tense thing now.

She did come to my funeral, which I find hard to fathom seeing as they never found my body. Just an empty coffin with some of my personal effects in. It was a nice affair though, they even had a wake at the pub afterwards. Everyone said such nice things, brought a tear to my eye's it did. Well, all apart from Bloat who attached himself to the free buffet and proceeded to eat most of it. He had a nerve turning up, that's for sure. His lecherous eyes were all over Joan, what a nasty mean spirited man he is.

So, after my Da died my Ma was on her own, bringing up us eight kids. It must have been hard, but she was a tough woman my ma, and she didn't spare the rod! Oh my no! She had a broken mop handle, The Beater she used to call it. By God did I get on the wrong side of that painful tool of bum welting more than once.