Family meal (3rd revision)

         One night, a man tried to kidnap a woman who was wearing a diaper but she locked herself in a bathroom and called the police. He broke into the bathroom and she stabbed his stomach with a huge knife. Then her sharp nails went inside the stab wound and tore open his bloody stomach. He screamed in extreme pain and vomited. Some of his intestines fell out. She picked up his liver, dipped it in his vomit, and bit into it.

         Two police detectives arrived at the apartment. A veteran detective who was a transwoman (or a man who looked like a woman) questioned her while the detective’s male partner, David, investigated her apartment. He then went to investigate around the apartment building for witnesses and came across a cloaked man in a pitch dark alleyway.

         “Did you get her?” asked the cloaked man. The partner didn’t answer. “Wait . . . you are a cop?”

         “I’m not wearing a police uniform, so why would I be one? Now who is she?”

         “Uh . . . my grandmother. I have to take her to the airport,” he lied. “Then I’m going to have some fun tonight with women in a basement. You want to join with me and them?”

         “I don’t have any money for Syphilis or female implants,” laughed the partner who turned to walk away.

         “I know you’re desperate because men need sex. But you’ll have to pay next time,” hesitated the cloaked man who scratched his own bent neck.

         “I don’t need sex. My father divorced my mother and found another woman. I’d never want to be a man of adultery or fornication.”

         “These women want you though,” smiled the cloaked man. Suddenly, the partner’s phone rang. After a phone call with his lesbian sister, he turned around to question the cloaked man who was gone.

         He inspected the staircase for witnesses. At the top of the dimly lit staircase, there were two black spiders. The smaller spider was approaching the bigger spider, like a man approaching a woman. The distance closed between the two, as the bigger one walked into a corner of the wall bounded by webs. The two stood only a centimeter from each other. Then the nearby light bulb turned off.

         The bigger spider tore off the smaller one’s leg. Jolted by the pain, the smaller one, which was once approaching, was now running away. But the bigger spider’s webs were snares. While watching the struggle to run away, the bigger spider went on the smaller one and began to eat it alive. The smaller one struggled and squirmed with one leg trying to break through the webs and escape but then the leg twisted, broke, and stopped moving.

         When the light bulb turned on again, only the bigger spider was on the wall. The partner curiously looked around for the smaller one. After a few minutes of searching, his pocket radio began to buzz and he hurried back to the apartment.

         “Can I interview her in her bedroom alone?” winked the young partner.

         “You’re not married” whispered the transwoman. “Yet you wastefully complicate your life by treating women differently than you treat men. Will you be a kidnapper too?”

         The transwoman left. The partner was about to leave too but a statement stopped him at the door, “You can’t fight nature.”

         He looked back and found the interrogated woman without clothes. He covered his eyes with a hand and asked, “How could you know my nature?”

         Yet the partner followed her into her bedroom that night. A few days later, he felt severe pain while using the bathroom. The lesbian sister, a doctor, wept and informed him that he had human papillomavirus which had also given him cancer. The terminal cancer had spread throughout other parts of his body. He went to see that interrogated woman.

         “I’ve come to tell you that I have HPV and was a virgin before meeting you,” he informed her.

         “Let’s talk about this in my room,” she said. The man remembered what the transwoman said, but still went into her bedroom. “I never had HPV, so I really don’t know how you got it. But anyhow, I’m a bit hungry. Do you have anything to eat?”

         He ordered some food while in her bed with his phone. Then she took out the knife and stabbed between his legs. He yelled in extreme pain while peeing blood. He limped out of the bed without clothes as blood gushed down his inner thighs. He tried to open the door but she had locked it. He shouted under heavy pain and tried holding the dashed bleeding flesh dangling between his legs. Her quiet knife quickly slit his neck. He tried to scream while holding his ripped neck as blood erupted between fingers of his grip.

         “I want to be in your arms tonight,” she sang while stabbing him repeatedly in the stomach. He slipped and fell down hard onto a puddle of his own blood and guts where she stabbed his squirming back ten times on the ground under his great convulsions of pain. He could see a dead baby under the bed with its head covered in drops of bitter breastmilk and its own vomit. Then he lost a lot of blood and lost consciousness.

         “Whoops,” she said with a grin as chunks of her diarrhea exploded on his blood and his unconscious body twitched under the sprayed stench. She fed the diarrhea and blood mixture to her dog that got very sick. Her doorbell rang and she checked his pockets for his wallet. Her rough feet kicked him away as her lips of blood smiled at a deliveryman with his cooked food. She paid for the meal with money from his wallet, giggling as she gave a very large tip. She ate dinner that night without washing her hands from all the blood.

         She arranged to sell his police badge, to buy more food. By the time she had eaten another delivery of a restaurant meal, the officer had bled to death. Then she chopped up his body, cut hamburger patties from his thigh, and put the rest of his meat in her freezer. She drained his blood into three large pitchers labeled “wine.” After a week, she had no more money to buy prepared food, so she began cooking and eating hamburgers from his flesh along with fried rats. After another week, she had finished eating his dead body.

         On the morning of the sale of his police badge, she was wearing his police uniform in the police station while waiting in a room with an open window that the buyer, the cloaked man, was spying through, from a great distance away, with a sniper rifle and camouflaged clothes. The police chief, wearing a bulletproof vest, entered the room and she showed his police badge to the chief. After a while, she went towards a corner of the room. The police chief was about to leave but then noticed that she was no longer wearing clothes. Only those two were in the room.

         After an hour, the police chief, covered in sweat, limped towards the door. He began to put on his pants with his hand on the door knob. Then there was a pop, and he slipped onto the ground. Blood was on the door and erupting from his chest. Some blood splattered on the window sill. Another pop sounded and his neck was torn apart, choking on his own blood. The window cracked with multiple holes.

         The woman carefully crawled on her knees while defecating across the red painted floor of broken glass. Then she licked a pool of blood and took off the watch from his fallen naked body. She checked the pockets of a blood-soaked police uniform. With sleight of hand, he attempted to put a handcuff around her wrist but two more pops rang. She kept her head low and took off some rings from his body. Then she opened the door and walked out of the room with feces hanging between her legs. The chief managed to roll over and began to carefully crawl across the floor like it was his cold unearthed grave. When he reached the door, something ripped through his bare back and blood poured from his shouting mouth. Another pop went off and his head broke open.

         After hearing about the police chief’s assassination, David’s adopted son, who was a security guard, became worried about his missing father. Soon he began to investigate his father’s disappearance. While searching online for maps of the local area, someone called him on Skype.

         “Hello. Who are you?” he asked.

         “I’m an investigator investigating a missing policeman,” answered the caller. “I believe I’ve found his phone. Do you know anything about the policeman?”

         “I’m his son!” he exclaimed. “We must meet and talk about my father, so that we can find him together.”

         That noon, he left his guard duty and they met at his home. After many hours of talking and phone calls, the two had narrowed down the location of his father to the house of the interrogated woman.

         “I’ll go there tonight,” concluded the adopted son.

         “And I’ll come with you for no extra charge. We’re in this together,” added his assistant with a hand wrapped around the adopted son’s. “Now let’s take a break with some beer.”.

         The assistant went into his kitchen and looked for something to drink. The adopted son was still at first, thinking about her hand that wrapped around his. But then he remembered what his father’s partner would say about equal treatment among genders, and he woke from such thought as he went into the kitchen.

         “I can prepare my own beer, my friend,” he began as he covered his eyes with a hand. Without clothes, the assistant had already prepared two cups of beer and handed a cup to him. “And please ask before touching my food.”

         “That’s a rude way to treat a lady, especially one who’s helped you,” she returned. “You men are all like that: rude and sexual.”

         “I don’t give any special treatment to women,” he answered. “And I’m not sexual. How could you know my nature?”

         Yet he followed her to his bedroom and drank the beer as the two smiled and laughed. After he turned off the bedroom lights, his body went into bed with her but couldn’t move because of something in the beer.

         She slept while huge pregnant roaches crawled about her mouth, drank her foul saliva, and laid eggs in her weed-scented deformed throat. The front of her teeth was white but the back part of them was stained somewhat black. The inside of her hair smelled like condensed sweat and was riddled with bed bugs. She had not showered in a month. Her legs, coated with transparent urine, squeezed together to hide swollen genital warts. White roach guts were under her nails.

         A fly crawled on her hand and woke her. She killed it between her palms, which rubbed its dead body like a poisonous cream. While silently farting, she secretly ate the flattened fly. She savored the flavor by keeping it in her mouth for about an hour like abandoned gum. She checked his pockets for money, but he didn’t have enough for any food.

         “It’s okay. I can’t hurt you” she sang after pushing him off the bed and stomping on his body. Her feet strangled him so that he couldn’t yell. He tried to vomit twice before she broke his neck. She laughed while stabbing between his ribs, drinking some of his blood, and draining the rest into three large pitchers labeled “wine.” Then she dragged his body into a bathtub of vinegar and cut lemon. Afterwards, she threw the body on a sturdy table. She cut the body into parts, made some hamburger patties from it, and carried the parts to her freezer. She ate his body over the course of another week.