The Pricks
I had a funny feeling that the Smiths were serving me people for dinner. I’m not sure why I suspected this, or why I continued to eat it, or even more so why I didn’t get the fuck out of there when I had the chance.
No sense in getting bent out of shape about it now. There is nothing I can do about it here, six feet underground. After all, they want me to get scared. To freak the fuck out. They said it is fear that really gives human meat such a delicious flavor.
So that is why I am able to stay perfectly still awaiting my suffocation when the casket runs out of air. I may have been too fucking dumb to save my own life, but I can still ruin their next dinner party.
The Smiths. More like the Pricks if you ask me. Ha! That’s it, Thom. Just keep laughing. Have to keep that fear at bay…