Fishmeal

“Call me Fishmeal…”

“Shut up, you fuck.”

They continue to work on what is left of my legs.  I lost the sensation of pain long ago.  They just seem to be enjoying their job, adding more chum to the bucket.  I don’t recall losing my hands.  At that point I believe they were feeding me my balls – an experience I am glad I will never relive.

“Can’t believe this prick is still talking…”

My greatest moment was biting the nose off of one of them.  It was salty with a warm, coppery chaser.

They left my eyes.  They wanted me to watch.

“Tell her that I love her…”

“Tell her in hell, asshole.  The whore’s next.”

There is a tugging somewhere inside of me.

“Gawdamn!”

There is a light above me, I think, but in the darkness I find a welcome friend.  She wraps her cold arms around me and I kiss her goodnight.