Bastard Offspring
The garret door's lock gave easily. Two men entered, guns drawn, to assess the scene.

It was one they'd seen all too often. The booths at either end of the loft were a dead giveaway, but it was the slowly writhing figure before them, with its compound eyes and clawlike hands, that clinched it. Disturbed, swarms of flies rose from every surface.

"What's drawing them all?" The younger man asked.

"To a fly, size really must matter," his companion replied.

The younger man surveyed the grossly mutated figure as it spasmed.

"He made a pretty fly, for a white guy."
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Wed 11 Mar 2009, 14:56, 2 replies)

Ha!
Excellent!!!
( SpankyHanky, Wed 11 Mar 2009, 15:00, closed)

Ta!
I should get out more.
( The Light in Chains don't touch the Pope's boner, Wed 11 Mar 2009, 15:16, closed)