#because i play righteous character but you!! you must like murder and eating babies too!
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Meat (prologue)
1770 words, warnings for: animal death, graphic murder, blood, gore, and cannibalism. also hand holding
MEAT
When I was eight years old, the collected families of Brewer street had a cookout where they bought a live grown pig, unbeknownst to me later to be killed and consumed at said cookout.
At the time it was a novelty, me and the rest of the neighborhood kids playing rowdy and noisily around the pig, who was kept in a small fenced-in area in the Maron's backyard. There it ate like a king, all the hay and hand-fed apples a beast could desire, all the pets and occasional slipped-in dog treat it accepted like a champion hero coming home from a battle hard-fought. We cherished the pig, us kids, who had commonly agreed to name it Brewster after the street we lived on and a long-forgotten tv show the adults were familiar with.
No one really was blind to the fate of the creature that become our temporary pet that hot summer weekend, and if they were, like me, deep in their heart of hearts they knew something was to good to be true. I will never forget standing on the middle rung of the fence in the early summer's eve, fireflies parading around in somber farewell as my uncle Joe raised the .32 caliber rifle and shot the animal straight between it's pleasantly dull eyes.
My childhood was shattered that day, I think, not because I didn't know it was coming, but that deep down I did and refused to face the facts of the matter. To me the pig would be there forever, a local legend, a neighborhood pet, feasting to it's heart's content and growing fat on the crops of the fall. But it was not to be. They roasted him on a spit upside down like some kind of ghoulish saturday morning cartoon, and when it came time to partake of our fallen friend no one would refuse the delicious call of the pork. None save for me, who closed my eyes and turned my head away in solemn remembrance of my tragic companion. They say that childhood dreams die young, and mine died right there on the picnic table in the Johnson's front yard as every ounce of meat was devoured, digested, or packed away in freezers for another time when one had a craving for a good old ham.
It was the deceit of the matter which concerned by, not that they had kept the pig's true purpose obfuscated to my young mind, but to the event of keeping a thing alive and happy just to look it in the eye and murder it. That this was the fate of all pig kind did not occur to me much, it was just another mysterious facet of life how hot dogs and breakfast sausage came to be on the grocery store shelves and on my plate. I am sorry to say that I did not swear of all pork or meat from then on, though my cause would have been righteous if it had occurred to me to do so. At the time I must have known I was part of the problem, but figuring, like most rationed humans who don't have enough pity or kindness in their black hearts to forgo flavor over humanity, I kept on eating animal product when it was on offer, never considering the consequences or the fate of the animals I consumed.
It was not until years after the fact, when I saw one human being partake of another in the manner one would a particularly juicy hamburger that I thought otherwise of my habits.
This was a grisly sight, but I could admit to feeling more than disgust at that moment. A sense of wonderment, curiosity, like a child experiencing something for the first time. Unlike the blissful unawareness exhibited by the pig moments before it's untimely demise, this person saw it coming, and the horror turned to confusion and betrayal was fascinating to witness. I must admit this did not prevent my stomach contents extrapolating themselves onto the pavement in front of me. The nightmare unfolding in front of me was not exactly like the horror movies I had been accustomed to, not false and dramatic punctuated with play-acted screams and gushing geysers of bodily fluid. Instead, the affair was rather subdued, with a dark pool of red accumulating under the fleshy stomach of the back street cop out the slice across his prodigious belly. He gasped wetly and made a number of sounds in my direction that could have been 'help' or 'stop' but the gash in his throat prevented him from formulating words with much sense attached to them. With a vile gurgle he slumped sideways and the perpetrator of the violence descended on him like a murder of crows, biting flesh straight from his meaty neck and tearing the chunks off with abnormally pointed teeth.
This would not be an easy task for someone with teeth like mine, the flat teeth known mainly for chewing plant matter. But humans are omnivores of course, and with an ingenious adaptation like his he was well suited to ripping meat straight from the source. He seemed quite content with his lot, and I made to sprint as fast in the other direction as I possibly could, before he turned to me with wet gleaming eyes and I realized that he was crying.
Him, the attacker, the violent instigator in this situation, with his mouth around the still-pumping blood fountain welling up from his victim's treacea, not at all the tragic or forlorn character he was made out to be. To me, this should have been more reason to run, he was surely truly unhinged, in fact I would have found it more acceptable it he reacted to his kill with no remorse at all, the way my uncle had shot the pig without flinching and the others had eaten it without fanfare. Instead, he was weeping openly as he ate, and he held out his hand to me to gesture in my direction, to call me towards the scene of the crime. Of course I had and have my reservations, and I fully admit I was not in any fit state of mind at the time, mostly likely in shock. But I kneeled beside him anyway and took his proffered hand, holding on as he continued his meal, looking at his misery-filled eyes but not at his mouth below, where the dark deeds he did lay waste to his peaked face.
We sat like that for what must have been minutes, me holding his hand for reasons I couldn't begin to understand, until lights lit up the alley, that old familiar red and blue. There were shouts as I dragged him, dazed, to his feet, the blood dribbling down his front a dead giveaway as to what he had done, the knife in his other hand slick with blood. I was not much better, the red gleaming liquid had pooled around my shoes and gotten on my shirt and hands from being so near to him, touching him, and I knew that for the first time in my young life I was seriously in trouble.
I grabbed his shoulders and shook him madly, trying to get him out of the haze he seemed trapped in. His acts had put him in a kind of limbo, a dissociation only he force could wake him from. He looked back at me finally as if seeing me for the first time, and his blue eyes grew wide, and he grabbed my hand again and took off running, pulling me along like a dog on a leash. I was just along for the ride, unhappy to be there, but now I was in it too, and I had no choice but to force my short legs to be keep up with his longer stride. The night air and the exertion burned at my lungs as we fled, and I truly felt as though I would fall and die. I thought he might keep running anyhow, pulling my arm from my socket comically with supernatural strength as he went. Instead, I found the last bit of energy I had left lingered in me, the flight or fight instinct clicked firmly to flight, and even the baby fat and adult pounds I had packed on after high school could not slow me down from keeping pace with him. We ran into the night, until city lights faded away and we were alone and in an empty field somewhere, crickets singing merrily around us and droning into silence as the late night crept in. There was fog all about, something I am grateful for, for surely it must have hid us from prying us from the roads beyond. There was a forest ahead, and the derelict part of town I knew lay beyond, and that was our destination for the time being.
This time it was my turn to pull him along, knowing the way to my sister's apartment even with my eyes blindfolded and my sense turned all topsy turvy. He seemed glad to let me lead, never letting go of my hand, as if to be separated was to die. I let him, though his hand was warm and sticky and clammy, and the sweat dripping off both of us was a none too pleasant experience. I swallowed down all my reservations and kept up the miserable silence, until we came to the backstreets of my new neighbor, ratty and run down like my soul currently felt.
"Hey." I said softly, noticing out the corner of my eye he was still crying, just a little. I squeezed my fingers tight around his, having no clue what I was doing or why I was doing it.
"It's gonna be ok." I said, lying through my teeth. In truth, there was no way it would ever be okay, but sometimes as an adult you tell people things that they need to hear.
"My sister will take care of us." I said, thinking this part was true, though what she saw when she saw us doused in blood I didn't quite know. I only knew that since childhood our principal loyalty had been to each other, and no matter what happened and who or what we brought home, be it wayward kitten or smelly boyfriend, that we would support each other fully. That was our bond as siblings. I pulled him in the direction of home as he nodded, sniffling, and went with into the warm and the light of the streetlamps ahead.
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Criminal Minds s01e17 A Real Rain review
Episode 17 – A Real Rain
Okay, so this is set in Manhattan, the episode this time doesn’t give anything away except for the fact that the victims may flood the team so much it seems like rain. I don’t know. I’m excited. Let’s watch.
Oh god, I love views of Manhattan, especially in night with all the sparkly lights. Times Square is so pretty.
And here is our unsub, so unstable it’s frightening. Ugh.
Why the fuck is he taping aluminum foil on his windows? Oh god, he’s beyond freaky.
Oh, and here’s rain, maybe that’s the reference from the title?
You know, I’ve never taken a cab at night in Manhattan, but the drivers never talked to me. Maybe they only do it with guys? Cuz they’re afraid women would sue them for harassment or something?
But I mean, if I had a driver chat me up, I would try and be conversational just so he’d get me to the right place. That’s how I do it here in Israel.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
Oh crap! He just shot that cabbie in his face! Damn!
Oh, in his chest? But … guess it was pieced together manipulatively.
Two more victims? Oh god.
Zodiac killer? Sounds weird. Maybe he killed once for every month? Ew.
Would it kill you to make Kirsten a regular already? Damn it!
W.H. Auden (again?): “Murder is unique in that it abolishes the party it injures, so that society must take the place of the victim, and on his behalf demand atonement or grant forgiveness.” Wow, you are one fucked up dude, Auden, but you’re right.
I agree, Elle, New York should be experienced on vacation, not while working a murder case. Especially if you’re from there. Though you’re from Brooklyn, girl, not the same as Manhattan.
Wait, Reid has never been to New York?
Oh Hotchner, “Haven’t you talked to Reid about taking some vacation time?” and then Gideon is all like, “What’s vacation time?” I love you.
“He got picked up in the rain by a New York cab, so we definitely know he’s not a brother” oh Derek, you sly dog.
So he’s a white, organized blitz-attacker? Oh boy.
So. He blindfolds the driver before he killed him? Definitely remorse, you’re right, Gideon.
So the crime scene is between an abandoned building and an express railway on which the train doesn’t even stop. Boy that is one smart psycho.
So the lady victim came to New York to start a new life, and he just had to poop all over her parade.
He waited for her in the apartment, shot her and when she tried to run away, he knifed her? Oh god.
So it’s either a replica of a prison shanking, or a replica of serial killers? Yikers. Both don’t sound good.
So they’re looking for a small angry white guy with a day job. Well that narrows it down!
I love it that they made the Captain of the NYPD precinct they’re dealing with an African-American lady. So powerful.
“Terror in New York like we’ve never seen since Son of Sam.” Oh god, that’s some serious terror.
Wait, he’s gonna kill in a church now? Is he seriously that messed up?
What the fuck is up with his hands?
That lady is so sweet!
Did he just kill the priest? Oh god.
Reid why are you breathing down the poor detective’s neck? Leave the nice man alone.
You want them to pull that thing out of his ear? Oh god, I really hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with too much blood this episode, but if you must you must.
Ew!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The rector (which always sounds to me like rectum and I can’t hear that word with a straight face, I am so sorry) was indicted with pedophilia a year ago. Yikes.
Wait, the knife he’s using is made of flint? Oh that is one sick puppy.
“Vault of all knowledge, check my flow,” well hello my supreme genius goddess.
“Okay, do you wanna time me or should I just dazzle you off the clock?” I love her so much.
“Oh baby girl, just say no,” well if Penelope is preaching not to use drugs, I’m never gonna use them again!
Also, it seems that the unsub decided that those who were discharged from their crimes are to be convicted nevertheless and charged with the maximum penalty. Oh dear lord, I just used the Criminal Minds jargon. Fuck.
“You’re a genius,” “You’re just saying it cuz it’s true.” I seriously love this character beyond measure.
Well, yeah, the detectives don’t look at the innocent as possibilities for the profile, they’re detectives, they’re trained to catch bad guys. Period.
Can I just comment that Reid’s mug in this scene looks obscenely large? I don’t even want to think about the amounts of caffeine he consumes daily lol.
Oh great, so it’s someone who has access to their files and can see that they’ve been acquitted and select his victims. Oh boy.
They have to go to the DOJ for that, right?
He’s an everyman, I get it.
Wait what. They already printed it in the papes? Oh god.
Aww they’re eating Chinese and discussing the case. Hahaha I love those guys. But Garcia should be there with them.
And Reid can’t eat with chopsticks. I love him. You are just the most precious rainbow unicorn, Spencer.
“It’s like trying to forge for dinner with a pair of number two pencils.” My excuse if I ever fail with chopsticks. Thank you.
The rubber band trick.
Let’s see if he can manage it now.
Nope. Epic failure, and I’m not even mad at you for it because you’re doing it with such grace and style that I love you for it.
Okay, a new topic, is Elle seeing anyone?
And she changed the subject back to the profile lol.
Guess that’s a negative.
“It’s absolutely incredible. 1.3 billion people stay nourished with these things.” Oh Spencer, you are amazing.
Wait what. He killed a cop? Fuck.
And it landed in the papes again. Lovely.
And it’s the same reporter. Great.
“Someday a real rain will come and wash the real scum off the streets.” Taxi Driver. Nice, Reid and Hotch!
“What you got for me, girl?” “Who do you love?” “Depends on what you’re giving me.” “Oh, don’t be such a man.” Oh lord, exactly what I needed before I turn in.
“Small butt.” “Not what I was jonesing for.” “You’re killing me with entendres.” Oh holy shit if those two don’t sneak into a supply closet I’m going to do it myself. And I’m gonna handcuff them so they have to kiss at all times.
He’s just rattling off the numbers Garcia gave him, he has it so bad. I love you Derek, but you need to get in on that luscious bodacious blonde goddess.
Oh Gideon you are one philosophical jackal and you seriously just messed with my brain. If you ever let your mind go to the place where you think about taking the law into your own hands then the unsubs would be getting into your head instead of you getting into theirs? My mind is spinning. Thanks a lot.
Okay that asshole just messed with Reid’s mind in a major way. So what if he’s 24? And already working with the FBI in the BAU? Maybe he found his calling? Don’t be a jerk.
Aw great, that asshole reporter is scooping them on every turn.
He has a file labeled “Righteous Killings” that is disturbing.
They ask him now to help them … yeah right, they think it’s him. He has amazing detail in his reports.
Ha! Gideon totally just profiled that reporter as a total loser that needs that asshole to keep killing to make a living! I love you, Mandy!
A hooded guy just shot a rando. And then he checked to see if he’s dead or not? You just shot him! That’s what happens when you shoot someone!
Oh shit. It was an undercover cop! Dang.
Wait, why is he turning himself in? That’s not the psycho killer. It can’t be.
He fits the profile to a tee, and confessed. But I mean, it’s too easy. How is it that he’s handing himself in? I seriously doubt it’s him.
Knew it. It’s not him. Gideon asked him about stabbing him in the groin and he agreed, yet they assessed he was stabbed in the head. Knew it.
He’s just another psycho who wants to be arrested? Ugh.
Oh crap. They would have the reporter to publish that they caught the killer when it’s not true to lure him out. Oh snap.
“Something’s funky, man.” Oh Derek, your street side is coming out, you perfect slab of yummy chocolate.
Wait so those cases would have been sealed for now, because it takes them 3-6 months to transcribe them? Oh crap, it’s someone inside the court. I love you, Derek Morgan.
“Holler.” Oh Penelope.
And they got him. Let’s get that Marvin Doyle bitch.
And he called in sick. Of course.
Oh boy.
I love it when they kick down doors. I don’t know why, but it’s hot as fuck.
So he has problems with voices in his head and taped aluminum on the windows with more layers of stuff to soundproof the place to keep the voices out. Oh my gods he was totally off his rockers. And even scratched out the face of his wife! And he has boxes of flints. Damn.
Bam. They found him. The next victim. Shot his parents because they abused him. Oh boy.
Oh lord, he has a wife, and he’s going home, he’s gonna be shot in his house? Oh lord.
Oh crap!
Get there quick! Come on!
Oh great, so now both Hotch and Gideon are going to be in the line of fire to try and talk him out of killing Ted. Ugh.
Wow he’s really messed up, isn’t he.
Oh thank goodness. He was about to shoot Gideon! He was about to shoot my baby! Thank goodness for the snipers. Fuck.
Awwwwwwwww, they put the song ‘Hallelujah’ that they played in Shrek. I love that version.
Mahatma Ghandi: “It is better to be violent if there is violence in our hearts than to put on the cloak of non-violence to cover impotence.” Man, that was one smart guru.
Ghandi also said: “I object to violence because when it appears to do good, the good is only temporary. The evil it does is permanent.” Yup. One smart guru.
Overall, this was an amazing episode. A little too graphic for me cuz I hate seeing actual wounds, but they had Penelope awesomeness, and Hotch and Gideon were amazing as always and Derek was hot and Reid was precious. I’m happy. See you all next time!!! I can’t believe there are only 5 episodes left of season one! holy smokes!
#criminal minds#s01e17#a real rain#aaron hotchner#thomas gibson#jason gideon#mandy patinkin#derek morgan#shemar moore#elle greenaway#lola glaudini#jennifer jareau#aj cook#spencer reid#matthew gray gubler#penelope garcia#kirsten vangsness
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