Jazz Butcher Bath Of Bacon Rar Page

Pat began to play. It wasn’t a tune. It was a lament. A guttural, squalling thing that sounded like a train derailing into a deli. He called it “Bacon of the Rar.” As he played, he lifted the bacon-laden ladle and, with a theatrical groan, draped the first strip over the bell of his saxophone. The hot fat dripped onto the floor, hissing like a snake.

This was the domain of "Jazz Butcher" Pat Rizzo. To call Pat a musician was like calling a heart attack a slight palpitation. He played saxophone like a man trying to wrestle a greased pig. His other passion, the one that paid the rent on this dive, was meat. Specifically, the Bath of Bacon Rar . Jazz Butcher Bath Of Bacon Rar

The crunch was louder than a gunshot. For a second, Gene’s eyes went wide. His knees buckled. A single tear—of joy, of regret, of pure, unadulterated pork—rolled down his cheek. Pat began to play

This was the ritual.