⸎

​

Scabbers. Four of them. Nothing special.

​

Run-of-the-mill waste trash sniffing for an easy kill.

​

_________________________________________________________

​

            You can usually tell a scabber by how theatrically adorned they are.

They tend to dress like devils, because some people are afraid of that sort of thing I guess.

​

Comics have ruined us all.

 

In the case of this lot, we’ve got twitch tats, bionic horns, reptile pigmentation tablets, and filed-down shark dentures—the latest in ridiculous scabber fad.    

 

_________________________________________________________

     

The ones who look like devils aren’t the ones you should worry about.

 

They do that because they know they’re not long for this world.

Know all too well the depths of their own cowardice.

 

They can feel their end coming, fate squeezing in on them like a trigger.

​

_________________________________________________________

​

Nothing like grimers. Grimers actually ARE the devil—with their extraction kits slung on their sides ready to gut out your organs for the highest bidder. They’ll pluck out your spleen like a lemon seed. I’ve only heard the occasional tale, but in these tales you never see them coming.

 

Just feel the scalpel sawing through your sternum.

 

Wet squelch of organs.        Clatter of bone.

​

_________________________________________________________

​

“Spread out” says the scabber with the shark’s smile, pushing air into words through tiny triangles of teeth. They sound sort of like a talking snake, like Coilee Carl from the early Merrymouse cartoons.

 

“Food firsst, then fun.”

​

_________________________________________________________

​

Good to see them dividing…   

Saves me the trouble of splitting them up on my own.

​

_________________________________________________________

​

I don't know about you, but I enjoy playing with my prey.

​

_________________________________________________________

​

I decided long ago I didn’t need anybody else.

​

⸎

​