Just a short little piece I thought I'd make.
Jim regarded the slab of meat in front of him. He had picked it up yesterday behind the grocery store. Tenderly, he lifted the tray it was on and put it in his oven. He pushed up against the door, holding it shut, and turned it on to 350 degrees. Jim looped a bike lock around the handle, ignoring the frantic scratching at the door. This was going to be delicious.