I woke up not long after I was struck down. I could felt something. I don’t know yet what it is to be felt. What did I feel, I could not recall. 

Suddenly, my head caught the sight of a guy sitting on a log of fallen tree. I could feel something hot. I could smell something BURNING. I was back to reality: I’m being cooked. I screamed. 

“Shut up, you twerp,” I heard him say. I couldn’t help it, the pain was so unbearable. “My daughter wants a sausage and spicy peas,” he said. “So I’m cooking yours instead.” 

I looked down to my bottom parts, and they’re GONE! I screamed, I cannot stand this nightmare, and I yelled where is my wife and where are my kids. SHUT UP, he says, OR I’ll CUT YOUR HEAD OFF AND BE DONE WITH IT, while he was eating what is the left of my family.  

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GO AHEAD and DO IT, YOU FUCKING CANNIBAL, I screamed in agony and suggested, WHY DON’T YOU END IT RIGHT NOW. 

Sure, he said in a laughter, deviant voice that I never want to hear. I’m being barbecued, and I sure as hell don’t want to be seen this way. Why didn’t he kill me, damn it? That fucking coward, I’ll take care of him for good someday, that fucking coward…

With what instrument, he said in a mocking voice, and take a look at yourself. You have no hands, no feet, no dick and no balls! Your flesh is being barbecued to its very skin! You and your family shouldn’t have camped around, this is my territory and I reserve the rights to your body and flesh! 

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I realized that soon and screamed, YOU FUCKER, YOU FUCKING FUCKER DICKHEAD WAD. In an instant, as I hollered my voice to the loudest possible, he stopped the scream abruptly with an axe of his that sent my head to its bouncy way down the hill from fireplace.