Calving out a niche

He had ravenously sunk his gnashers into the raw, sun-warmed meat having barely looked at it and knowing that it was likely to have patches of rot in it. Sure enough, after one rather tasty mouthful, he bit into another part and immediately blanched as rancid juices diffused into his mouth. He had told himself that he would overpower his gag reflex through force of will, but the actual taste was truly shocking, and no sooner had a little of the green foulness seeped onto the back of his tongue than his body took charge, squeezing his stomach upward and hurling forth everything he had consumed in the last two hours, including, of course, the foot that he had sawn and ripped from the putrescent calf that he now held in his quivering hands.