Amongst the buffet was a plate of eyes on thin sticks. The wide-pupilled globes
moved in circles attempting to locate their unfortunate owners. They cast glances
throughout the room, near and far. In their panic they never even thought to look
down at the platters surrounding them.
Five yards away, on the start line, stood the guests returning the stare of the eyes
and salivating heavily while their fat fingers twitched at their hips like buffet assassins
of the highest order: an old time version of pen pushers living for the evenings when
the fruits of their suppression and occupation were spread out for them to pick at like
the vulgar vultures they were.
"Ahh, how I adore eyes on stalks. How lovely a little dark magic makes a spread on
these most opulent occasions. Representing marvellously the scared and confused
people we rule."
"Shut the fuck up you romantic knob. All that matters is the way they burst in your
mouth. Fucking love that feeling."
Throughout, the far past doomed eyes moved round, ever more panic stricken.
Looking for the empty sockets in skulls already skinned, stripped of flesh and pates
removed. The eyes on stalks, a delicacy in this part of the occupied lands, see the
skulls but do not recognise them spread out at equal distances along the tables, the
fire within them lighting that part of the room. And all the other parts that were once
connected and laid out ready to be reduced much further.
moved in circles attempting to locate their unfortunate owners. They cast glances
throughout the room, near and far. In their panic they never even thought to look
down at the platters surrounding them.
Five yards away, on the start line, stood the guests returning the stare of the eyes
and salivating heavily while their fat fingers twitched at their hips like buffet assassins
of the highest order: an old time version of pen pushers living for the evenings when
the fruits of their suppression and occupation were spread out for them to pick at like
the vulgar vultures they were.
"Ahh, how I adore eyes on stalks. How lovely a little dark magic makes a spread on
these most opulent occasions. Representing marvellously the scared and confused
people we rule."
"Shut the fuck up you romantic knob. All that matters is the way they burst in your
mouth. Fucking love that feeling."
Throughout, the far past doomed eyes moved round, ever more panic stricken.
Looking for the empty sockets in skulls already skinned, stripped of flesh and pates
removed. The eyes on stalks, a delicacy in this part of the occupied lands, see the
skulls but do not recognise them spread out at equal distances along the tables, the
fire within them lighting that part of the room. And all the other parts that were once
connected and laid out ready to be reduced much further.
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