When you FINALLY find the old family butcher shop, tucked in the middle of NOWHERE, OREGON, there are just a couple of sights that might shock you.
It won’t be the many ANIMAL HIDES hanging from various rusty nails throughout the tiny cavernous windy rooms that the store inhabits.
It won’t be the smell of freshly butchered, um, cow – I hope. I couldn’t quite tell WHAT meat it was as I peered through the somewhat cloudy and overloaded meat case.
It won’t be the HUGE fella behind the counter with a blood stained apron and what looks like a huge MEAT CLEAVER in his hands.
It won’t even be the sign on a large hunk of what appeared to be pate that said “PUDDING MEAT”. (Now THAT was appealing.)
The biggest shock? When you ask for change for a $20 and the woman reaches deeply into her UNDERWEAR to find her wad of cash.
“Um, well, never mind! NO!! I didn’t really need any.”
And don’t let the screen door hit you as you RUN from the store, holding your precious jalapeño hot dogs.
Wait, is that dueling banjos I hear????