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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.

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  • 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.

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  • 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.

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  • 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

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  • 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

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  • 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

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  • me wish I had been born vegetarian. But there was no use in looking back, now. Vern looked so juicy in that brown sauce, and I was so hungry. So with tears in my eyes, I sliced him

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  • , 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

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  • 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

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  • 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.

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