Home » Poems » Paula Swanson » Please Pass the Entrails

Please Pass the Entrails

You stand at your front door. Looking down, you see horror. You freeze in that spot
as from under the door, comes the bloody seepage of carnage.

It pools around you. As you push open the door and walk in, it makes a sickening
squishing and suction sound. The gore seeps into your sandals.

You know that you shouldn't, but fear also rules curiosity. You walk further into the
room. Afraid that something is going to attack.

As you step through the room, you here an odd *pop* . You gaze down at your feet.
There oozing over your toes, is the remnants of an eye.

Your throat starts to burn, as the bile rises up. Your eyes lose focus. You faint and
slink to the floor. You lay cuddled in the blood.

Upon your waking, you find yourself soaked in the blood. It is gelled in your hair.
When you can finally stand, bits of raw flesh cling to your clothes and cold skin.

There before you are your freshly painted walls. Covered in...someone. It is then that
you notice that you front door is now shut...and locked.

All you can think of, is the plumber that you had called in to fix you leaking kitchen
faucet. Oh no! Is that a pipe wrench?

A noise from behind, has you quickly spinning around. You see a shadow move. It
slinks in to the kitchen. You give chase. Stepping on entrails.

You had dreaded this. You knew it would happen again. There is no way to stop it.
There, like the last time, on the kitchen floor is Diablo, your cat. Daintily licking it's
paws. Looking very satisfied with himself.

You walk towards your little demon of a cat. It stares back at you with eyes, green as
jade. You stand there, not knowing what to say or do.
As Diablo looks and says......

"Next time, order Chinese, O.K."

Ahhhh, I hope I scared you a bit. This is my Halloween offering for Oct. 5th

Bwwwaaaaahahahaha

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