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The Gutting
by Sylvester Lewis

She lay there on her side, unable to move, but able to see the two of them that snatched her away and brought her to Heaven knows where. They were standing over her when she heard the woman say “I never could do this. You know how much I hate it. Why do you enjoy it so much?” she asked. “Call me when you're finished,” she cried out as she turned and ran from the room, leaving him to do what needed to be done. He did enjoy this part even though she didn't. And he would get it over with quickly so they could relish the rest of the evening.

The victim just laid there, terrified. Her mouth wide open, gasping for air, to no avail. It was almost impossible for her to breathe. “Where am I?” she called out. “What are you going to do with me?” But there was no voice. She couldn't be heard. Wild-eyed, she could only watch as the man reached into a drawer and pulled out a large knife. He ran his finger down the blade and smiled his approval at its sharpness. As he walked towards her she suddenly realized what he was about to do. “No! Pleeeaase! No!” she screamed. “Why? Please don't do this.” But he wouldn't stop. “Let me go back to my family, my little ones....PLEASE!” she begged. But, still no voice. Only silence. She watched, helpless, frantic, still unable to move, unable to speak. He raised his arm. All he could think about was the pleasure his efforts would bring. As the knife plunged towards her, she knew that it was the last thing she would ever see. Her life did not flash before her eyes.

With the precision of years of experience, he made the first cut then slid the blade under her glistening skin and, with great relish, started to separate it from her body. He delicately removed a bone here, an unattractive piece there, his eyes shining with joy. When he was satisfied with the results of his efforts, he turned her over and started on the other side. Completely engrossed in his work he didn't notice the spittle seeping from the corner of his mouth onto his unshaven chin. At last it was done. Completely gutted.

While cleaning up the gruesome, slimey mess, he suddenly stopped, looked down at his handiwork and shook his head. There's something amiss here, he thought. Then, as he wiped the drops of persperation from his brow, he realized what had to be done. “Yes. Of course.”

He called out to his wife, “Honey, it's not gonna be enough. Reach into the bucket and bring me another trout.”