The unmistakable smell of peppermint tea

The unmistakable smell of peppermint tea wafted through the building. Unusual for an abatoir, but this was no usual day

and the stench of blood, shit and animal vomit was rarely abated. Slaughterhouses rarely played host to award winning writers, but Moore was revisiting his youth. Closing doors

on the past and burning bridges was his specialty. The awful truth was that he wanted fame just as badly as a real housewife from Beverly Hills but he was a sicko and needed

pork sausage to fill his cravings. Not the real spicy kind, but a good Bratwurst would never go untouched. His attraction to the meat was rooted in his childhood, for his Dad was

a Navy officer and a cannibal, and used to kidnap military kids and make sausages from them. "You must eat what you hunt," he'd say as he packed the casings with flesh and sage.

His wares were popular in the surrounding villages. He took particular delight in his ability his excess sausages at below-market rate to the local orphanage, knowing that

imbued with unique superpowers. Joey gained flight. Lucy could read minds. Poor Stacy, though, turned into a reasonable facsimile of THE INTERRO-GATOR, costume and all.

Though none of them compared to their hamster Guillermo who turned into a human sized pet with super strength and super speed. This also turned him into an evil hamster. The kids

had to give tributes of pellets and full heads of iceberg lettuce or be forced to gladiator battles in yellow plexiglass balls. "More woodchips, Now! or feel the wheel!" Sad times.