One Hundred Pounds

Synopsis

I got up for some water when my phone suddenly buzzed. A new message popped up in the usually dead group chat, "Happy Homes." The message read: [Guys, sorry. I've got about 100 pounds of meat at home that I forgot to put in the fridge, and it's gone bad. [It stinks pretty bad. Will it block the pipes if I chop them up and dump them down the drain?] The time stamp read 3:14 AM. My hand stopped halfway to my mouth, glass in hand. A cold shiver shot up from my feet right to my head. It was August, Fritzburg's hottest season. I wondered who would keep 100 pounds of meat at home and let it rot.