Knock knock knock.

A woman of whom I'd estimate to be in her, let's say, late twenties peeked through a tiny hole on her front door, cautious of strangers. It was only her husband however, and she smiled and unlocked the door, letting her life partner in.

Just as soon as she'd turned the knob and pulled back, she screamed and jumped backwards, trying to put as much distance as she could between her and... that thing! It had the face of her husband, and the overall body build, but... NO!

"Uh, dear? Remember how me and Bobby went for some, uh, 'son-father bonding time'? Well... um, I blame the harpoons and the arrows!" The man uttered.

His left arm was absent, only a bloody stub of flesh now. One of his legs was hanging by a few thread-like sinews, a morbid sight to see. The other was mostly intact, but was still layered with holes and red liquid. The same condition for his stomach.

And, held in his right arm...


"I said it was the harpoons, dang it!"

Their son was butchered, lifeless, splattered with crimson "water", limbs torn, macabre at it's finest... A bycycle was outside, on it's side.


He barely reacted to that claim, for, well, "I might as well be dead, ya know."

"You know what they say, Robert. S'laughter is the best medicine..."

Robert's last thoughts were the following: Wow, I married an insane woman. Her mother in laws stuffed cats probably should've tipped me off, but whatever.