The rapture didn’t happen on Saturday, but I did get to meet Clete, the man who sells meat out of the back of his truck.

I was home alone on Saturday, dutifully getting ready for the rapture by lying in bed watching random hilarious Youtube clips when the doorbell rang. I peeked between the blinds and saw a small brown pickup truck parked in front of our house with what appeared to be a deep freezer in the back tied down with bungee cords. There was a magnet on the driver’s side door that read: C and J’s Mobile Meats. Awesome.

I opened the door and there stood an overweight man, the kind of overweight that’s only overweight in the middle. He looked like a pear wearing flannel balancing on a set of undersized legs. He was also wearing a trucker hat that you could tell he had been wearing before that phase were wearing trucker hats became cool. The pear extended his hand.

Flannel wearing pear: Hey there. I’m Clete Thomas. You the head of the household?
Me: She’s not here, can I take a message?
Clete: Naw, just making my rounds and bout to head in, whatever I don’t sell, I got to throw away. Wondering if you want to take some off my hands?

At this point Clete had not clarified what he was selling. So, just as confirmation I asked. Clete then went into a spill that rivaled Bubba’s (from Forrest Gump) speech about shrimp.

Me: Sorry, I’ll have to pass. I have a personal philosophy not to ever buy meat out of the back of a pick up truck.
Clete: If I may be so bold, sir, to suggest that you don’t know what you are missing. Our meats are the finest, tenderest meats in the city.
Me: Wow. That is pretty bold, Clete but I think I’m willing to take that risk.
Clete: Sir, you said you don’t buy meat out of the back of a truck, right?
Me: Yes sir. It makes me nervous purchasing meat in my driveway.
Clete: Well, now hear me out, do you like Outback?
Me: Yes sir. Those Aussie Cheese fries are amazing.
Clete: Yes, I imagine they are. But how do you think their meat get there? You see any fields behind Outback? You think they walk out there and slaughter them cows in their backyard. Then cook’em and bring it out to your plate right then? No, sir. Them meats gets there on truck. Same thing here, we just cutting out the middle man. That's all.
Me: Touche, Clete. That is a very valid point. The only difference is if I get sick from an Outback steak, I can sue them or something.
Clete: You won’t be wanting to sue, you’ll be wanting to thank me.
Me: So, you are just going to throw away what you don’t sell?
Clete: Yes sir. I’d hate to waste it. Love to give you some.
Me: If you are going to throw it away anyway, why don’t you give me a couple filets and if I like them and don’t get salmonella or whatever, I’ll buy some from you next time.
Clete: No sir, can’t do that. I gotta make a little something.
Me: But if you don’t give them to me, you are just going to throw them away, right? Plus if I like them, I’ll buy some from you next time. It would be like an investment.
Clete: I need to make what I can make, you know? How about two filets, $10?
Me: I’m not going to lie, that’s a good deal Clete. But to tell you the truth, my wife is a couponer and I don’t have any authority to spend any money on food at all ever. The only way I can have anything you are offering is if you give it to me for free.
Clete: With prices like this, it’s just as good as free.
Me: There is only one thing that is just as good as free and that is free.
Clete: Just think if you had two filets fixed for your wife when she got home, she’d be so happy.
Me: I see you’re a romantic just like me. So, since I’m not going to get those steaks no matter what else is said, why do you take those two filets home and cook them for your wife?
Clete: Ever night. So you want one of those filets for $5 and go fix it and eat it before your wife gets home?
Me: I hate to waste anymore of your time, so I’m going to go ahead and shut the door. You have a good rest of the day. You should talk to my neighbor across the street. He likes steak.
Clete: Alrighty, thanks for the lead.

Then I shut the door long enough for Clete to walk across the street to my neighbor’s house. After he had been talking to my neighbor for a few minutes, I went outside to “check the mail” just so I could give a big neighborly wave.

In case you were wondering, I asked my neighbor on Sunday afternoon and he said he didn’t buy any deep freezered pick up truck meat either. Poor Clete.

Have you ever bought meat out of the back of a pick up truck?

If so, did you die?