Chomp Chomp!

With a quick 180 degree turn of my head, I shot twenty daggers into her retinas and went straight for her jugular, biting into thousands of dollars worth of jewelry and tasted perfectly aged crimson syrup. The thick, dark fluid slid down my throat like a milkshake on a august afternoon. As I pulled my dripping jaw from her split porcelain neck I felt the shards of platinum and gold stab my gum's and lodge deep inside my cheeks, slivers that hurt so good. I'm not sure what tasted better, her skin or her hubris.

January 11, 2006