His sister wailed while her foot slapped against the tile, wet like a seal’s flipper, splashing blood. Gwen reached for Timothy, trying to get to the fleshy treat hanging from his teeth. She bit down on the other end of it, and they tugged in opposite directions until the meat ripped in half.

And Timothy went for more. Gwen was busy chewing.

He bit into her calf. She grunted but still chewed.

“It’s mine…” Dad stomped across the kitchen to join in on the feast. Black and white bits of fur were pasted to his lips and chin with blood.

Timothy took another mouthful of leg, tore it away with a swinging of his neck. Gwen tried to sit up, either to stop him from hurting her further or to try and take the meat from his mouth. But Dad caught her by the hair, swung her head back to the floor with a crack.

He chewed on her face like a man in a pie eating contest, swinging his head back and forth as he gorged. When he pulled away, Timothy saw that Dad’s nose was gone, now a hole pouring blood onto Gwen’s face and chest. She chewed on it, crushing the cartilage and skin, wincing as Timothy took another bite from her leg.

With an umph and a clicking of the teeth, Mom dove across the floor and went for Gwen’s other thigh.

Gwen gurgled and tried to thrash, but the weight of the family was too great. Her head rolled in place.

Then Dad went for the stomach, the rolls and rolls of glorious fat inviting him. He shoved his head into it and frenzied. Blood and fat poured forth, red and yellow. The yellow was sticky, gave off a scent that made Timothy’s mouth water even more. He joined Dad, then Mom did too. Even Gwen reached down, grabbing handfuls, stuffing it into her mouth and groaning with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

The growling of stomachs mixed with the wet sloppy sounds of eating.

They all paused, just for a moment. Timothy and Gwen glared at each other. Dad and Mom looked at themselves, frowned, then at each other, mouths agape, dripping with gore. It was as if they all realized, just for a fraction of a millisecond, that something was wrong.

Gwen whimpered, her lips quivering between gasps.

It was like a dinner bell.

In unison, as a family, they continued their meal.

I NEED IT

Juan slammed the door, pressed his back against it. Manuel shuddered as he stuffed bloody meat and sloppy viscera into his mouth. The woman’s face was petrified into a mask of torment and sadness. Her tongue hung over the corner of her mouth like rotted fruit. One of her small breasts had been torn away, replaced by a ragged, yellow patch. She’d been devoured from the bottom of the ribs down to her sex, which was no longer recognizable as a human part. Looked more like chili meat. Manuel sat Indian style in a pool of blood and gore, naked, his manhood painted red, smacking as he chewed.