Meaty

On the 10th of March of 2022, I ate two pizza slices and drank iced tea at the Lulu Island pizzeria in the morning. The big screen showed Seattle news, but the sound was off, as usual. In the afternoon, I returned to the pizzeria to have a slice and an iced diet black cola. It was Seattle news, again, on the big screen, with sound off. Somewhat audible East Indian music was playing behind the counter. A boisterous corpulent East Indian man with his boy with a rocket-ship T-shirt ordered pizza. I walked to the cafe. At the cafe, I drank iced black tea. Behind the counter was Sebastian, the Mayan-Austrian hybrid. A big mesomorphic boy customer with something like a samurai hairdo entered. I had seen him before with his impressive meaty thighs, as he liked wearing shorts. Heading home, I observed through the window the new interesting products in the new Japanesque bakery with a bubble-tea vendor. I saw an elegant long bun with the price tag "$95"—or "$9.50"? Near the gasoline station, I saw the round-headed corpulent, but muscular man, who lived in a nearby apartment. I had seen him many times before, over the years, often with his little boy. He decried the ill sentiment in society: "They think sex is just poverty." In the alleyway, my Russian neighbour hastily passed by, whispering, "Everybody's just crying."

On the 11th of March of 2022, a grey morning, I was at the Lulu Island pizzeria, as three vendors, two South Asians and the Filipina, Rose, were busy making orders behind the counter. I had a Hawaiian slice and iced tea. Then, I went to the grocery store looking for dried anchovies, but there was none, according to the two Filipina workers there, so I bought instead five packets of frozen crab-flavoured wild pollock, or kamaboko, and a bag of frozen sole fillets. Then, I went to the cafe, where there was a long line. In front of me was a big boy in shorts, his meaty legs showing. A stocky man in a grey T-shirt and black track pants came in and out. An old man was reading an old book about the ice-hockey player Wayne Gretzky. Drinking my black iced tea, I sat near a table of a Bosnian couple, speaking Bosnian. The cafe music was multilingual, and I could hear Mexican lyrics,"Llorando, llorando, llorando": "Crying, crying, crying." An old man who was a regular before and had moved to White Rock gave me a little KitKat chocolate bar, wrapped in red paper. In the afternoon, I returned to the packed pizzeria to enjoy a pesto cheese slice and iced black diet cola. I could not sit in my usual corner. There were multiracial girl students, with expensive bubble teas. Outside near the greengrocery, white students walked by, saying, "We rather have salvation from suffering." It was drizzling.

Tom is holding a giant meaty bone.

In the early years of this century most Americans did not question the meaty, starchy, saladless national diet.

This tastes rather meaty. Are you sure it's vegetarian?

"He's a foreign-looking guy with thinnish black hair and a meaty sort of pan."

The warm, comforting, meaty smell of khorovadz drifted into the café from a stall on the pavement; the quiet mutters that had till then passed for conversation in the café began to buzz with passion and interest.

The slightly sulfurous, meaty odor of morels attracts flies, which lay eggs in the safety of the mushroom's hollow stalk.

The whole, long, thick, meaty shaft of it quivered as if eager to dispel my mouth. Odor assailed me, too – my brother, like so many soldiers, not being overly fastidious in matters of personal hygiene. "All right, my little whoreling," he commanded, [...]

There’s nothing worse than having cashed out the college fund so that Mom and Dad and Buddy and Sis can afford airfare to Wally World, only to find out that they are additionally facing bag fees and snack fees, and soon enough, there will likely be a fee to have the 350-pound man sausaged next to Sis in the middle seat keep his meaty elbows out of her ribcage.