My Guest Author is my Granddad. You’ve heard, and maybe even said, “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.” That takes on new meaning with this tale.
My brother, Buster, worked for a fellow named Loomis. He had the job of keeping his place one winter while Loomis went back east. The deal was to keep things going until, “You run out of meat.”
Buster moved in and found the flour, salt, sugar, and coffee. The meat was in the meat house. He went down to cut a piece for supper. The carcass was skilled out and hanging high. The hind legs still had the critter’s feet on it, feet with fetlocks and horse hooves! Buster hesitated until his stomach growled. Then he whetted the butcher knife and started cutting steak. His job lasted until the meat was gone. When Loomis came back, he saw me in town and told me, “I’d not do what Buster done this winter. I’m going to give him more than he expected.”
Uncle Buster years after eating hors de horsemeat
He did.