Butcher Shop (imaginary Store)

It is located right on the hectic streets of the Bowery in Little Italy. The exterior has fading red bricks; the store name is positioned on the right window and says “Tom’s Pigs”. The windows are very clean in comparison to the rest of the store. The store smells like meat, recently cut. The floor is oak wood and on the walls are posters of other family owners. There are glass cases containing the meat on sale for that day, the counter in the front where you work has a scale and the register. Your little white hat annoys you because it never seems to fit right. The pasty apron you wear is drenched in blood from the cow butt you just sliced up. When you walk through the back door the meat hooks hold the hanging meat in perfect categorization: a butt here, torsos here, tongues here ect. The cutting table is washed and the blood with un-needed meat is discarded into the garbage can next to the cutting table. In the bottom right corner of the table you can see the year 1935 engraved in, the year it was bought. The store seems so decent, just a man doing his work so that his family can thrive. But behind closed doors up the stairs lies a secret, something no police officer or political leader would suppose. Up the stairs lies a gambling racket, with hardcore gamblers wishing away their money. The table for playing is an emerald color, it smells of intense perfume, and the racket boss, Striker, the odd man who no one in reality knows, watches from his chair in the corner. A seemingly respectable business on the outside is secretly only a front to the addiction that lies inside.