Spelling
written by: Johannes Springenseiss
I can eat just about anything, except meat brought home from a grocery store. For pork and beef, I need a real butcher shop. And, in my book, simple ownership of the business isn’t sufficient; the top guy must exhibit a professional connection to every piece of protein grub he sells. Once he earns my trust, and I earn his, the transactional relationship quickly morphs into friendship. As we well know, there’s a world of difference between the two.
Having had mostly fond memories butcher-wise, I must admit one notable exception. During the early days of my stay here in the sticks, I and the owner of the local meat shop became fast friends. Rucksack, that’s the butcher’s nickname, he runs a very fine operation, ranging from the best sweet Italian sausage to a dream of dry-aged bone-in ribeye.
At one point Rucksack felt comfortable enough to share a secret of his. “Found a great side gig. The pay’s good, and it’s a nice diversion from life’s monotony.” He took off his apron and showed me the XL warmup shirt he was wearing: GOOD HUSSLE = GOOD LIFE.
“Rucksack, the correct spelling is HUSTLE, not HUSSLE. True though, the t is silent.”
He clammed up, and since then all our conversations have been strictly meat-focused.
Shouldn’t have pissed him off with the spelling. I’ve found out from reliable sources that Rucksack, owing to his intimate knowledge of mammalian anatomy, has been moonlighting for the State.
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