The blinds were still open, though it was long past sunset. Before he had started working, Johnny had turned on the floodlights mounted on the house wall, trained on the carcass that hung from the tree. Every window of the restaurant framed several stunned-looking faces, mouths agape, as the restaurant patrons were treated to the floodlighted spectacle of performance butchering in the yard next door.

Sighing, he picked up the tray and carried it inside.

The restaurant must have been really, really busy that evening, because when he emerged, ready to slice more roasts and steaks from the carcass, the blinds were still open and the faces were still turned to watch him. Curious now as to how long the restaurant manager was going to let this situation continue, Johnny positioned himself so he could see the windows as he worked. He had only been at it a few minutes when he glimpsed the manager's horrified face alongside the faces of his customers, then saw the blinds on the windows swivel shut, one by one.