Tender is the Flesh(7)
Egmont nods, but he says no and the other two look at him with surprise. No one turns down this meat, eating it could cost a month’s salary. El Gringo doesn’t say anything because he knows that his sales depend on the quantity of heads the Krieg Processing Plant buys. One of the farmhands cuts off a piece of kid meat and makes two sandwiches. He adds a spicy sauce that’s reddish-orange in colour.
They walk to a small barn. El Gringo opens another cage and motions to them to come over. He says into the machine: “I’ve started breeding obese heads. I overfeed them so that later I can sell them to a processing plant that specializes in fat. They make everything, even gourmet crackers.”
The German distances himself a little to eat his sandwich. He does this bent over, not wanting to stain his clothes. The sauce falls very close to his sneakers. El Gringo goes over to give him a handkerchief, but Egmont gestures to show he’s fine, that the sandwich is good; he stands there eating.
“Gringo, I need black skin.”
“I’m actually just negotiating to have a lot brought over from Africa, Tejo. You’re not the first to put in a request.”
“I’ll confirm the number of heads later.”
“Apparently some famous designer is making clothes with black leather now and demand is going to skyrocket this winter.”
It’s time for him to leave. He can’t handle El Gringo’s voice any longer. He can’t bear the way the man’s words accumulate in the air.
They pass a white barn that’s new, that he didn’t see on his way in. El Gringo points to it and talks into the machine, saying that he’s investing in another business and is going to breed heads for organ transplantation. Egmont moves closer and seems interested. El Gringo takes a bite of his sandwich, and with his mouth full of meat says, “They finally passed the law. It’ll require more licences and inspections, but it’s more profitable. Another good business to invest in.”
He doesn’t care to hear any more of El Gringo’s words and says goodbye. The German is about to shake his hand, but stops himself when he sees there’s oil from the sandwich on it. He makes a gesture of apology and under his breath says, “Entschuldigung,” and then smiles. The machine doesn’t translate.
From the corner of his mouth, the orange sauce slowly falls and begins to drip onto his white sneakers.
4
He gets up early because he has to stop by the butcher shops. His wife is still at her mother’s place.
He goes into a room that’s empty except for a cot in its centre. He touches the cot’s white wood. On the headboard, there’s a drawing of a bear and a duck hugging. They’re surrounded by squirrels and butterflies and trees and a smiling sun. There are no clouds or humans. It had been his cot and then it was his son’s. Products with sweet, innocent animals on them are no longer sold. They’ve been replaced by little boats, dainty flowers, fairies, gnomes. He knows he has to get rid of it, to destroy and burn it before his wife comes back. But he can’t.
He’s drinking mate when he hears the horn of a truck at the entrance to his house. It startles him and he drops the mate and burns himself. He goes up to the window and sees the red Tod Voldelig letters.
His house is fairly isolated. The closest neighbours are two kilometres away. To get to it, you have to open the gate, which he thought he’d locked, and follow the road furrowed on both sides by eucalyptus trees. He’s surprised he didn’t hear the truck’s motor or see the cloud of dust. He used to have dogs that would chase after cars and bark at them. Their absence left a silence that’s oppressive, complete.
Someone is clapping and calling his name. “Hello, Se?or Tejo?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I’ve got a gift from El Gringo. Can you sign here?”
He signs without thinking. The man hands him an envelope and then walks over to the truck. He opens the back door, goes in and takes out a female.
“What is that?”
“It’s a female FGP.”
“Take her back, okay? Now.”
The man stands there not knowing what to do, and looks at him, confused. No one would turn down a gift like this. The sale of the female would amount to a small fortune. The man tugs on the rope around her neck because he doesn’t know what to do. The female moves submissively.
“I can’t. If I take her back, El Gringo will get rid of me.”
The man tightens the rope and holds out the other end. But he doesn’t reach for it, and the man throws the rope to the ground, takes a few quick steps, gets into the truck and drives off.
5
“Gringo, what did you send me?”
“A gift.”
“I kill heads, I don’t breed them, okay?”
“Just keep her for a few days and then we’ll have ourselves a barbecue.”
“I don’t have the time nor means to keep her for a few days. I don’t want her.”
“I’ll send the men over tomorrow to slaughter her for you.”
“If I want to slaughter her, I’ll do it myself.”
“Then it’s settled. I sent you all the papers in case you want to sell her. She’s healthy, all her vaccines are up to date. You can also cross-breed her. She’s at just the right age for reproducing. But most important is that she’s an FGP.”