Monday, August 17, 2009


*Names have been changed to protect the identities of the victims.

It was a grisly scene when I went to visit my dear old friends, the P family*. I knew something was wrong the moment I got there and the door was slightly ajar. I slowly pushed it open, calling their names.

"Mr. P? Mrs. P? Kids? Are you there?" No answer. I was worried.

I walked down the front hall and rounded the corner into the living room. It took me a moment to comprehend what I was seeing. It was awful, like something out of a mob hit. An arm here, a nose there. An ear lying on the ground next to Mrs. P's best hat.

I ran into the next room, desperate to find some sign of life in this massacre. I stopped short, too shocked to take another step. I had found Mr. and Mrs. P lying on the floor, like discarded toys. But what had been done to them was the worst part.

"What kind of sick person has been at work here?" I heard myself say out loud.

Mrs. P's wide, staring eyes had been the top of her head. Oh, and the atrocity committed against Mr. P! His ears and eyes were gone, and his remaining arm had been crudely shoved into the spot where his eyes once were.

I went off in search of the kids, praying that they weren't home...or if they had been there while their parents were tortured, were hiding under the bed or in a closet, unfound by the vicious beasts who committed this terrible crime.
My hopes were dashed when I entered the dining room. I found the kids...and the culprits, the perpetrators of evil and mayhem, still up to their dastardly deeds. They were so consumed by their violence that they didn't even notice me at first.

"Hey!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. They looked up at me, shocked that they had been caught red handed.

"What are you doing? Don't you know it's snack time?"