Objects of Worship Read Online Free PDF

the security guard. George thought, I
sure hope that guy has good medical coverage. Recapitation’s not
cheap . Then one of the guys kicked the head. The preacher
got mad: “Ralph! There was no need for that!”
    Ralph, who was so tall he had to bend down to walk
through the doorway, looked sheepish. “Sorry. Got too
revved up.”
    The factory felt empty, deserted. The corridor led to a
number of closed doors. The preacher said, “The fleshies
must be behind those doors. Come on. Let’s do what we
came here for.”
    The first door led to a broom closet. George opened the
second door. Jackpot.
    The room was huge. Naked fleshies were stacked in a
big cage, pressed tightly against each other. Their arms and
legs had been amputated, but they were still alive. There
must have been hundreds of them. They were all covered
in excrement. Their mouths were sewn onto transparent
plastic tubes that led to a big vat above their cage. Some
kind of liquid goop flowed from the machines and into the
mouths of the fleshies.
    George
could
never
have
even
imagined
these
conditions.
    Between the door and the cage, there was a long stretch
of tables, on which were piled mountains of amputated
fleshie corpses with their skulls sawn open. On the floor,
there was a long and deep tub filled to the rim with
unprocessed brains.
    The smell of the raw brains was overpowering.
    The group of animal liberators, George included, mobbed
the big tub and started chomping away at the cornucopia of
raw meat.
    In less than an hour, the tub was licked dry. High on
food, the activists approached the cage that held the live
amputated fleshies. They tore the iron bars apart with
their bare hands. They ripped the tubes from the fleshies’
mouths. They cracked the skulls of the animals on the
floor and gorged themselves on fresh brains.
    They fed until they’d eaten all the meat stored at that
factory.
    George lay on the floor in a stupor, his body covered in
blood, gore, and brain goo. He was roused by the police
sirens.
Around
him,
the
other
liberators
were
slowly
starting to come out of their post-binge daze. George,
alarmed
by
the
sound,
collected
himself
and
hurried
outside. A half-dozen police vehicles were on the road,
driving fast toward the factory farm. He ran to a ditch and
jumped in. He prayed that the police hadn’t seen him.
    From the ditch, George saw the police round up all
of his cohorts and search the would-be liberators’ two
remaining
vans.
After
a
while,
they
drove
off.
He’d
managed to escape. Raymond had been right. This had
been a crazy idea.
    They hadn’t done any good for the fleshies. All they’d
done was eat.
    George got angry at the preacher for putting all these
stupid ideas into his head. Eating was natural. Meat was
meat was meat. And that’s all there was to it.
    George and Raymond invited the whole neighbourhood
to their backyard barbecue. The Fespers were the first to
arrive, but soon dozens of people were milling about the
yard, their children tied up and well-behaved, screaming and
crying. Scott was tied to the fence, next to the barbecue.
    Basil Fesper said, “I’ve never trusted preachers. All that
holiness. It warps the mind.”
    Raymond said, “Basil, it was only that one preacher who
was criminally insane. Not all of them!”
    Basil harrumphed. “They’re all trying to contaminate us
with their subversive notions, I tell you. I’ll breathe before
you ever see me in a church!”
    His wife giggled. “Oh, Basil! Like you need an excuse
for not going to church! Honestly, if I hadn’t insisted on a
traditional wedding . . .”
    Holding hands, George and Raymond left the couple to
bicker with each other.
    Raymond turned to George and said, “Darling, I don’t
know why I got so depressed before we got Scott, but,
almost losing you because of that stupid stunt, it really put
things in perspective. I love you, and that’s all that really
matters.”
    “I love you, too, Raymond. I’m sorry we fought so much.
That I