Pale fingers traced around the pool of blood,

Pale fingers traced around the pool of blood, his body twisted and bend in ways she could never have imagined. "Well, looks like Twister strikes again." She sighed.

She thought twister would be safer than law darts. She was wrong. Dead wrong. The bloody twister map had congealed human fat right in the center of it.

A quick taste confirmed it. Tasted like Vern Mitchell my sister-in-law's uncle on her mama's side. He had been missing for going on 13 years. Everybody thought he'd gone mountain.

Evidently, he'd never made it to the distant mountains. He was right here in the dining room, served up as a meal. I shuddered and pushed the plate away. Vern had been a gross old

goat and I was vegan. Well, a lapsed vegan, but seeing Vern's cooked corpse there made me renew my vegan vows. I learned them from a guy in college with questionable hygiene and a

rather suspicious love for barnyard animals. Whatever, he'd been a great kisser, no matter who--or what--he'd practiced on. But getting back to Vern: seeing him on that plate made

, diced him, smothered, & covered him with grilled onions & melted swiss. And then I ate all of him. Yes, that's right. I ATE VERN & I am not sorry! Well, I wasn't until my stomach

began to growl again. "What?" I said to myself, confused. "I literally just ate Vern, toes to nose, I can't be hu--" Flashback, sudden and staggering: The Hungry Caterpillar. No, I

am…a cockroach. “Kafka,” I sighed. It was clear to me now: The Metamorphose part zwei. I would continue to eat until, ultimately, I turned into larva Mothra moth, ready to grow.