Zelmire sat behind the register of her sausage stand, with her feet propped up on it, leaning back on a plastic chair. She was nibbling on one of her own sausages, which was a little undercooked and tasted of blood and tender flesh and most of all, human fear.
And spinach. That was also one of her important ingredients.
As she finished it up, a man walked out of a nearby bar, a bottle of beer still in his hand, came right up to her, and leaned close to her, his arm resting on the stand. "Hey there, sweet cheeks," he drawled, clearly drunk, "what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"
Disgusted by the scent of alcohol on his breath, she cringed inwardly, but, to an outsider, it would look like she was returning his advances. Tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear, she stood up, closed the distance between them seductively, and whispered into his ear, "I could tell you...but then I'd have to do this."
Without warning, she opened her extra mouth and tore his head clean off his shoulders, shewing it up and gulping it down in one bite. She would have eaten the rest of him, too, but she didn't like to consume anything with a clood-alcohol level higher than the legal limit. After all, she'd have to drive later.
So she dragged his body to the dumpster in a secluded alley on the other side of the street, then looked towards the bar he'd walked out of. Hopefully no one inside had seen what she'd just done, but there was only one way to find out...
Putting a closed sign up in front of her stand, she went up to the bar, pushed the glass door open, and stepped inside, waiting to see if anyone drew back in horror.
Want to know more? Read the book to find out.There's a strange man sitting on the sofa munchiwunching on lomticks of toast!
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