Bubba checked the smoker. Perfect coals.
“I’ll get the rump roast,” said Jesse. In the truck bed, three gagged Boy Scouts struggled against their bindings. The two skinny ones froze. The fat one inched away. Jesse grabbed his ankles. He flopped like a trout as Jesse dragged him to the bloody stump.
Jesse raised his axe. A ripping sound. Brown soaked through the boy’s shorts. “Damn.” Jesse lowered his axe. “Rump roast’s done spoiled!”
The boy looked up, hopeful.
“How ‘bout ribs?” Bubba hollered.
The boy’s muffled scream silenced with a CHOP! and that meat just fell off the bone.