Gregor can only watch in terror.

The thing cracks open his companion’s head. It slobbers over the contents and then runs its finger around the insides. It scrapes like a man desperate for the last of the butter and finally satiated drops him like a ragdoll.

Gregor whimpers.


Inspired by my breakfast this morning (the butter that is, there were no brain eating monsters).

It actually also inspired a second story but that one I’ve submitted to The Drabble – so we’ll wait and see how that works out.

3 thoughts on “‘Slobber’”

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