Justin Massey looked up from his horsemeat. " The cold count last night reached eighty" . He pulled a piece of gristle from his teeth and flicked it to the nearest dog. " If we march, we will die by the hundreds" .
The outer rim of his shell is a soft gristle, and when prepared like the meat itself, cooks to the texture of gum drops, and is of a flavor to make you eat until you are weak and faint from surfeit.