I KNOW I’M A FOOL

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post I KNOW I’M A FOOL By Content Creator know as Burden. Burden Claims Their Work as “For those who are no longer human. For those who can’t relate. Videos range from unruly despair to unrecognized rage. Deprived Visions.” Who or Whom Burden is remains to be seen, but Here’s a would be Rundown of this Obscure Channel. Burden is a Small Channel that has a Collection of Strange/Unexplained/Mysterious Videos that could Possibly be an ARG, an Art Project, Gorilla Advertising, or Just the Crazy fucking shit Spewing from Someone Who forgot to take Their fucking Medication. We Don’t give a Fuck if Burden is Actually Ingenious or Absolutely Insane, But We fucking Do Enjoy Their Work a Good Bit that’s for Sure.

I KNOW I’M A FOOL basically can be Broken Down into 3 Parts The Beginning, The Middle, and Yeah the fucking End. The Beginning showcases Gothic Themes like it was Filmed in Some fucking Graveyard somewhere it’s just Painfully Cliche is all (it SERIOUSLY reminds Us of a Countless Number of Student Art Films/Projects is All). The Audio is Much More interesting as it’s Narrated by What Sounds like an Old British Man Who Sounds like He is Waxing Poetically during what could be a Lecture of Some sort on Life Lessons or fucking Philosophy on the Human Condition but We don’t rightfully fucking Know.

The Middle is Black and White Footage of What Appears to be a Woman on a fucking Bus as if She was on a Security Camera because the Distorted Footage is Reminiscent of Something Recored on/by CCTV. Then Following that There is Rather Random Stock Footage of Old Historical Trains with Coal Burning Steam Locomotives at the Helm. For Once in One of these Weird fucking Fringe Videos the Audio ACTUALLY fucking Matches the Visual as during the Train Footage the Audi is just a Recording of the Industrial Sounds of a Moving Train. The Trains Aren’t Passenger Trains as there No Passenger Cars or at Least We Didn’t fucking See any and We watched this Shit Over and Over So there’s That. These Trains Appear to be Freight Trains with Box/Stock Cars (The Train Cars that fucking Hobo’s Used to Hitch a Ride on)

The Final or Ending Part of the Video is a Simple fucking Visual of a Blue fucking Sky and fucking White Clouds that Sort of Blurry Together over Time. The Audio is the Old British Bastard but this Time around there is a Distinct fucking Echo wherever He’s Speaking. We instantly;y Associated the Echo with a Cathedral or Extremely Large Church as if this Guy is Delivering a fucking Sunday Sermon or some shit though God, Jesus, or Specific Religion is NOT MENTIONED OR REFERENCED. And for that We are more than fucking Grateful because NOTHING fucks Up a Potentially Bad Ass Video than Religious Preaching, Testifying, Promotion, Rhetoric, or Fanaticism. Best to Leave Religion Well Out of It because Honestly if there is a God We’re Sure He/She/It Could Care fucking Less about it.

FYI the Last Line of Dialogue is fucking Killer.

 

 

It is What it Is,

  Presented By Les Sober  

Your Long Ride In The Foggy Tunnel Of Time

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post featuring YOUR LONG RIDE IN THE FOGGY TUNNEL OF TIME by Content Creator(s) Known as Burden. Who or Whom Burden is remains to be seen, but Here’s a would be Rundown of this Obscure Channel. Burden is a Small Channel that has a Collection of Strange/Unexplained/Mysterious Videos that could Possibly be an ARG, an Art Project, Gorilla Advertising, or Just the Crazy fucking shit Spewing from Someone Who forgot to take Their fucking Medication.

Statistics:

  • First Showed Up on October 2, 2009
  • Has a Total of 7.86 Subscribers
  • It has a Total of 469,063 Views
  • The Name at the End of the About Message is Signed by Deprived Visions Why and for What Reason We have Yet to Discover.
  • Your Ride In The Foggy Tunnel Of Time was Posted on September 10, 2020
  • Your Ride In The Foggy Tunnel Of Time has a Total of 1,673 Views
  • The Channel has just Over a 100 Videos in All.

About:

Burden/Deprived Visions is Self Described as “For Those Who Are No Longer Human. For Those Who Can’t Relate with  Videos that Range from Unruly Despair to Unrecognized Rage.

Video Description: We Already Know How This Ends.

Synopsis: Well it’s No Secret We here at FYB are Diehard Fans of all things Death, Doom, and Destruction so this Shit is right Up Our Ally. It has a Surreally Haunting Soundtrack, Human Remains, Torture, Suffering, Tanks/War Imagery, and a Clock to Remind Us We are all Living on Borrowed Time and that Death can Come at Anytime Not just During the Bad Times.

 

It is What it Is,

   Presented By Les Sober  

Vage Games

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post Featuring VAGE GAMES by Content Creator Federico. The Haunting and Somewhat Cliche Song in the Video is “Metaphysic” and is by Composer Kevin Macleod. Macleod is Most Widely Known for His Licensing Options that Allow Anyone to Use His Music for Free as Long as He Receives Attribution (Credit) and that has Led to His Music being Used in THOUSANDS OF FILMS, Commercial Video Games (Example: Kerbal Space Program), and a Vast Number of YouTube Videos/Films.

THUMBNAIL (CONTEXT):
Ebenezer McBurney Byers (1880) was a Wealthy American Socialite, Athlete, and Industrialist. He won the 1906 U.S. Amateur in Golf. He earned Notoriety in the early 1930s when He Died from Multiple Radiation-induced Cancers after consuming Radithor, a popular Patent Medicine made from Radium which is HIGHLY RADIOACTIVE Dissolved in Water.
Byers was Very Wealthy,  Considered to be Handsome, and His Life was just going well until He Experienced Back Pain and Visited to His Doctor.  Now remember that Back in the Day when the Medical Field was FAR, FAR MORE PRIMITIVE there were 2 Significant Problems when it came to Medication. One was the Doctor’s simply Not Knowing Enough at the Time and Thus Prescribing Dangerous Medications and Medical Procedures. The Second was what They referred to back then as Snake Oil Salesmen who Traveled from Place to Place Selling “Miracle Tonics and Health Inducing Elixirs that Aside from being a COMPLETE FUCKING SCAM could be Toxic.

Byer’s Doctor Prescribed Radithor, which Worked so Well for Him Eliminating His Back Pain and Any Other Ailment BUT, little did Byers know the Radithor was EATING HIS FLESH from the Inside Over the Years. Then Towards the End of His Life Byers was Consuming  3 Bottles of Radithor a Day until His jaw just became so Necrotic that Surgeons had to Amputate Byer’s Lower Jaw along with a Significant Portion of His Upper Jaw. From that Point On more Body Parts of Byer’s Deteriorated and were Removed until He inevitably Ended Up Dying Plagued by Various Forms of Cancer that Riddled His Decrepit Body Due to Radithor.

Synopsis: A Forlorn Central Character Ekes Out a Sorrowful Existence in a Bleak and Barron Apocalyptic Wasteland Lamenting Mortality.

It is What It is,

Presented By Les Sober

My Foe

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post featuring By Umami. For those unaware Umami (aka Justin Tomchuk) is a Canadian artist, composer, and content creator who makes surrealist animated videos. Hexsystem is the Alias under which Justin Tomchuk Composes and Publishes His Music. Tomchuk’s Musical genres include Downtempo Electronic Music, Particularly Industrial and Ambient Music. Many of his Songs serve as the Score to His Videos while others are Independent Releases.

Plot: Profound Thoughts Pertaining to Mortality and One’s Enemy.

Thanks For Watching,

  Presented By Les Sober

Shits and Giggles: I Am Your Grandma

Welcome to a little midweek madness featuring I Am Your Grandma by  multimedia artist and filmmaker Julian Mayer. I Am YOUR Grandma is an manic autobiographical video diary if you will that Mayer recorded for her unborn grandchildren. By posting the video on YouTube, she conducts a sociological  study of why people feel compelled to share their personal lives with a entire world made up of anonymous strangers, and whether this sharing affects the actual emotional significance of the video itself. I Am Your Grandma challenges notions of one’s self-perception of mortality, social media, and  one’s legacy after they succumb to death. This video is a grim reminder we never live as long as we’d like.

See you on the other side,

  Otto Rageous  

The Views of Vikings

As I mentioned in a Liquor synaptic storm I mentioned  (in the previous post) that today I would be posting something pertaining to the Vikings.

First off Vikingistic is not a recognized word, but English is such a half assed shit language I see there no reason Vikingistic should’t be a viable word.

Vikingistic: Having the Attributes or Likeness to or of a Viking/Viking Culture/Viking Life Style.

Now on with the Post.

I think a brief refresher on exactly Who and What Vikings were in Reality. Over decades of Hollywood Movies and Television Shows have been given one hell of a make over/rebranding.

According to Movies/T.V. Vikings are portrayed as  Stoic, Brave, and Honorable Nomadic Warrior Explorers. This couldn’t be FARTHER FROM THE TRUTH.

Vikings in Reality were complete Savages who’s bloodlust was unmatched. Vikings spent their time Drinking, Fighting, and Fucking through countless conquests. Vikings were brutal Barbarians that raped and pillaged anyone or anything that crossed their path. True the Vikings were explorers, BUT NOT in the traditional sense.

Vikings unlike say Charles Darwin for example traveled far and wide to Discover new Cultures, Animals, Sea Life or Plants. Vikings did the EXACT OPPOSITE. Vikings traveled for one reason, and one reason only to Rape, Pillage, and Destroy ANYONE they might come across,(and take their land for Viking expansion and EnSlaving Women and Children that is if they decided not to butcher them for the sheer fuck of it.)

Vikings though (more than likely due to their Lifestyle) had a total acceptance of Death, They had no Fear of Dying. This has been immortalized in the saying “Today is a Good Day TO DIE.”

Now Vikings didn’t say that shit to look tough or like a bad ass before battle they said it for an actual reason.

Vikings believed their Nordic God’s had scheduled the exact time, date, and day of their Birth. AND Those same God’s had also scheduled the Time, day, and date of their Death.

Another Key Viking belief was that a TRUE (and only appropriate) death for a Viking Warrior was to Die in Battle. For if a Warrior died in Battle not only did he die an Honorable Death, BUT he would be rewarded as well.

The reward for dying in battle was that the deceased Warrior’s Spirit would be transported to the Halls of Valhalla (The Viking Version of Heaven/Paradise) where a Viking could indulge in all that he loved while living. This meant his Spirit would spend eternity Drinking, Fucking, and Fighting.

Bottomline: Vikings Loved Violence and Hedonism to such an extreme that even in Death a Viking could spend eternity doing EXACTLY as He had Lived..

Believing this apparently led to the total acceptance that death is inevitable thus one shouldn’t be concerned about it. This is the concept that I’ve been mulling over recently.

With My inevitable demise due to my shit heart, the Doctors who want to run me around like a fucking Lab Rat, and Still come to the same conclusion PLUS the fact now they want to continue to their Frankenstein shit cutting me open again I have to ask myself is it worth it?

Obviously Dying isn’t the only option, BUT when I ask is it worth this is what I mean. If I get all this medical mumbo jumbo done yes I will live Longer anyway you look at it. My question pertains to Quality of Life.

Is it worth all the bullshit, time, pain, and most of all MONEY if after I spend my life strapped for cash, living pay check to pay check barely scrapping by because I’m buried under mounting of mounting medical bills.

Point: Do I want to spend my elongated life utterly stressed out and poor as shit due to massive medical bills? Sounds like financial fucking Slavery to me. (“We’ll save your life, FOR A HEFTY PRICE.” that is so fucked up I can’t believe I’m typing it.) This is America and CAPITALISM has turned Life Saving Medicine into a FUCKING BUSINESS full of Greedy motherfuckers.

So were the Vikings Views on Death really the best way to deal with one’s Mortality? Who the fuck Knows, Not Me.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Life and Death in Architectural History

For the most part most of people today are well aware that during the Victorian Era (June 20, 1837 – January 22, 1901) Society and People in Large were absolutely OBSESSED with Death. This led to a variety of practices that can seem by todays standards to be outrageous, Bizarre, Morbid, and just plain Sick.

Some of these unusual practices pertaining to Death in the Victorian Era were as follows. Postmortem Portraits meaning ( Note: prior to 1839 all Portraits were PAINTED by hand) the relatives of the Dead would dress the Deceased and stage them in in Life Like poses for a Photograph, Especially Infants and Children.

There was also the practice of Wearing the Hair of the Dead. The hair could be put in a locket or more commonly made into a piece of Jewelry such as Brooches, Bracelets, Rings or Chains.

Another was the practice of Covering Mirrors. Once the family member died all mirrors in the House were immediately covered. This was done because if a mirror in the House fell and broke it was a sign someone else in the Household would die soon as well. Also to avoid bad luck the clock(s) in the house of the Deceased would be stopped at the exact time of their passing. Lastly when the body was removed from the premises it had to be carried out Head First so that it wouldn’t beckon other members of the Living to Follow.

Now if SEVERAL family members of the same family died EVERYONE and EVERYTHING that entered the Family Home would be wearing a Black Ribbon to PREVENT THE DEATHS FROM SPREADING FURTHER.

For my last example I will use the practice of taking all Family photos and turning them face down. This was to prevent the Deceased’s Spirit form POSSESSING Relatives and Friends alike.

Back in the Victorian Era Funeral Homes had very little to do with Death other than selling Coffins, and possibly providing the Grave Digging Service too. So when it came to such things as a Viewing/Wake it fell solely on the Families shoulder’s.

Based on what we have seen by the first example (Death Portraits) you better believe a Viewing/Wake was deemed absolutely necessary, BUT the question was “Where the hell do we Keep and Display The Dead?!” Without the services of Today’s Funeral Homes Families would hold the Viewing/Wake (which could last several days) in their house.

Since you couldn’t display a body in the kitchen, Houses when they were built had a Parlor Room. This room specific and really only purpose was to display Dead Family for the Viewing/Wake. And yes the name Parlor was a shortened version of Funeral Parlor.

Over time of course Funeral Homes realized their was a shit ton of cash they were missing out in in the Death Service Field. Slowly Funeral Homes came to resemble those of today offering a SLEW of Funeral options, but most importantly They had their own Viewing areas for Wakes. Thus Parlor’s found themselves unemployed and thrown out on their collective ass.

The issue that confronted POST Victorian Era Architects (and Society as a whole) was the lingering stigma of The Parlor. As we all can image as long as houses were built with Parlor’s the vision of Dead relatives on display would haunt the room’s reputation until the end of Time.

What comes next is NOT AN EXACT nor ANYWHERE CLOSE HISTORICALLY ACCURATE retelling of how The Parlor problem was Fixed.

One day on January 1, 1901 the American Architecture Society met for a special conference that was being held for the sole reason of coming up with a viable solution for the Prevalent Parlor Problem. The conference was held in a small town of Mortuary located on the outskirts of Death Valley in Sunny California. They unanimously agreed at the time that the Town name and Location were quite appropriate, and if your going to have a convention dealing with Death best to have it in a beautiful Sunny State full of Bleach Blonde Surfers?!!

Any who the morning was a complete wash, no one could see to come up with even a half decent answer to the Parlor Problem. By Noon everyone’s blood sugar was in their ankles so the Mediator called 60 minutes for Lunch hoping after a good meal the Men’s mental faculties might actually yield a solution.

As the Conference was breaking for Lunch a young attendy (an Architectural Student from Erroneous University in Pluskin the East end of South Dakota) by the name of Eger Herberts over heard two fellow attendees conversation on the said subject of Lunch. One Man had asked the other where exactly should they go for Lunch today. The 2nd Man replied he thought Lunch at The Lively Leprechaun Kitchen and Bar would be a good idea. To that the First Man said “Ah Food and Drink under one roof now thats Living!”

Right then Eger had his Epiphany and immediately ran over a pushed the conferences Emergency Stop Button. Once The Emergency Stop Button was pushed all in Attendance had to Stop dead in their tracks, and await instruction. Once everyone was motionless and silent Eger announced his answer.

“What’s the OPPOSITE of Death? Life! LIVING! We rename it a LIVING ROOM, Thats POSITIVE as all get out Right?!”

After the Shock and Awe wore off it was put to a vote right there on the spot and as a result the (Funeral) Parlor was REBRANDED as what we know of today as yes a Living Room.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

The Absolute Insanity In Editing: The Original

I was talking with my Brother god knows how long ago and I was ranting about how my editing is insane. I’ve actually started editing a piece only to have the end result being a completely different piece all together. I told my brother that extreme editing being part of my writing process takes a good bit of time, and I’m aware people have virtually NO ATTENTION SPAN. My Brother suggested to address my concerns about it by posting an example say an original version, and the the final version in a compare and contrast scenario. Like so many of my Brother’s excellent ideas I fully agreed that would be a perfect solution. I then immediately did nothing about it I just put it to the side. In true fashion though I doubled back and FINALLY have decided to do it.

This is the ORIGINAL version which I wrote for a local writing competition for shits and giggles. There were some CONDITIONS to be dealt with. The rules stated while it could be a horror piece it COULD NOT exceed 1,000 words. Thats not all theres more such as no horror cliches. That meant NO Teens in the woods at a cabin or camp for example. Car/mechanical break downs, eerie/scary sounds, the group CAN NOT split up in anyway, AND the killer had to be human were almost all the rest of the limitations. I honestly don’t remember the rest as this was written a while of go.

Personally I think this piece is just that a piece of shit. The 1,000 limitation wasn’t so much the issue as while I respect and understand why  the people throwing the competition banned cliches. the PROBLEM with both of the aforementioned issues cliches are cliches sometimes for a reason. This is one of those times as all those horror cliches are key tools to build suspense and build tension. Without suspense and tension a horror story is at best a shitty thriller (Horror I love, Thrillers are complete shit ,but thats a different story so I digress for now)

I will only post EVERY OTHER Revision as to over burden the readers nor bore them. After I post this I will post the 2 REVISION. I’m current working on the 3 revision currently. Revision 3 will NOT be the Final Version not by a long shot, and I’m not fucking psychic so I have not idea what so ever how many more revisions there will be.

With that said here is the original (in my opinion is childish and utter shit) of:

The Butchers of Backwater

As the pungent odor of the smelling salts filled Joel’s nostril he snapped awake as if he was hit by a lighting bolt. His vision was blurred and he strained his eyes to the point of pain squinting to make out where in fact he was. Joel’s head was pounding like there was a giant metronome was banging away in his head to no end. As his eyes adjusted to the dim candle light of the chandelier and various candelabra’s that sent shadows dancing on the walls with wild abandon.The wall paper was so old it had become yellowed and as brittle as parchment over the countless decades. Large pictures of grimly stoic what Joel assumed where family ancestors framed in dingy gaudy gold frames that lined all four walls of the dinning room. Some of the paintings subjects looked some what deformed but Joel dismissed this to the stone faced portraits of the past where no one dared smile. The black and white old time photographs had faded in various degrees from whitened smudged edges to almost fully faded to the point of being almost black in appearance, and the photos as well as the paintings were emotionless poker faces.There were two medical looking candelabras on the table placed at each end these in combination with the chandelier did little to combat the darkness which encapsulated the room

As Joel’s eyes came slowly into focus he could see he was in a rather large dinning room that was reminiscent of the kind of dinning room one would find in a Old Southern Planation farmhouse. Joel was restrained with thick chains that bound his feet together, secured Joel’s arms to the arms of the old oak chair he was situated in. The chains were also coiled around Joel’s torso like a metallic python. Joel was positioned at one end of the table opposite the designated head of the table. Joel strained against the chains to no avail as it became a reality that he wasn’t going anywhere, and was being held as some sort of hostage. There was a full place setting in front of Joel consisting of a antique china plate that was chipped around its perimeter. There were three forks, two spoons and a knife laid out as well that looked like they were old enough to be genuine silver. The cutlery showed it age as oxidation over years had left its trade mark patina giving the appearance that it was tarnished.
Joel became aware of someone talking behind him in a deep commanding voice, and with the distinct drawl like that of a “Southern Gentlemen” from an era long gone.
“Ah, I see our company has risen from his prolonged slumber. I was beginning to fear that you might never be returning to this world of the living, but look at you now. A true testament to a man’s will and his perseverance over that which is problematic.”
Joel still was still struggling with all his might to come fully back to his senses. Questions swarmed Joel’s battered brain like enraged Hornets adding to his continued confusion. Where the hell was he? Who’s house was this?” “How’d he even get here”,but most of all at this particular moment the primary question was “Who was this man and why did he restrain Joel with an excessive amount of chains?”
“Mr. Joel Fletcher you have the definite look of confusion as to where you are and to that which is going on.” the voice said with a slight tone of mockery.
Joel then heard the distinct sound of centuries old wooden floor sighing with long groans and loud creeping sound of someone walking across it. The foot steps were coming closer and closer from behind Joel. Joel tried to hide his increasing anxiety and fought to keep his voice from wavering.
“Who are you, what in the name of christ is going on here? What do you want?” Joel said as his speech increased in its rate of speed. Damnit Joel thought to himself I can’t show weakness, I must remain calm and focused as possible considering the current circumstances.
“Questions abound don’t they Mr. Fletcher and you shall have all the answers you desire shortly I assure you.” The voice said from directly behind Joel so that Joel could smell the stink of cigarette smoke.
Suddenly a very tall and lean elderly man strode out from behind Joel’s seat and quickly crossed the vast dining room in only a couple of strides stopping at the head of the table. The old man was dressed in a crisp brilliantly white suit complete with a bolo tie. For a split second Joel wonder if he had fallen victim to the demented relatives of Cornel Sanders from the KFC advertisements of his youth. The old man had a full beard that was as white as his suit and long shoulder length hair that for some odd reason was as black as the bottom of an abyss. The old man pulled his chair out and took a seat slowly lowering his long and thin body into the chair. The old man crossed his legs and placed rested his arms on the table on either side of a second place setting. The old man reached into his suit jacket and removed a cigarette case like the ones from the 1920’s. He opened the case, removed a cigarette tapping it lightly and deliberately on the exterior of the case. The old man took a few minutes that seemed like an eternity to Joel to locate his Zippo lighter that had some sort of military insignia on it. The old man lit his cigarette taking in the first couple of drags with gusto before exhaling. A cloud of lingering smoke hovered around his head like a demonic mist.
Once Joel’s eyes met the gentlemen stranger the man began speaking again.
“You must pardon our lack of light for dining. You see with my condition, I’m an albino you see, I’m afraid my disadvantaged eyes are rather sensitive to light, thusly we forgo the harsh light of electricity in favor of the softer less offensive light of candles.” said the Gentlemen stranger as he puffed away on his cigarette like it was going out of style.
“We? We who? I only see you and me sitting here.” asked Joel, his voice now quivering uncontrollably now.
“Well then as you are my humble quest allow me to explain. My family name is Leviticus and we have kept our bloodline pure for centuries even before my family made their way to America. My family was of great wealth and status until the civil war tore us asunder. War is hell Mr. Joel. War is hell indeed.” said Mr. Leviticus in a slow and steady tone before a brief pause. “After the war my family was banished if you will, into the backwaters of the Mississippi were they eked out a meager living hunting Alligators and selling their skins. Then came the unfortunate great depression and the rural people of this land left this place to find greener pastures in bigger towns or perhaps the city. My family being tougher than the gator skins they sold decided to stay put for we would not lose the rest of our family to the industrial world beyond the boarders of the bayou.” Mr. Leviticus said longingly with pride as he stared off into oblivion.
“Now alas my brother and I are all that remains of the once great Leviticus Family lineage.” continued Mr. Leviticus who at this point seemed to be talking to himself as he didn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence as he spoke.
“Now due to the family tradition of keeping the family bloodline clean and pure there were some issues of health with the later generations such as the deformity of both body and mind. My brother being the last offspring born into this family suffers egregiously from these afflictions you see Mr. Fletcher.”
Just then the massive silhouette of a man filled the immense doorway behind the seated Mr. Leviticus.
“Ah Yes dinner is served I do hope you enjoy pork Mr. Fletcher” declared Mr. Leviticus with great pleasure.
“Where is my brother?” Joel asked anxiously as they had been traveling together documenting the impact the oil spill had wreaked upon the Gulf of Mexico and those whose livelihood as fishermen had been destroyed.
“You see Mr. Joel when my brother and I happened upon you and your business partners as well as your aforementioned brother you were all being beaten mercilessly by a group of roving bikers outside a rather unattractive bar in Bella, the text town over from ours. I phoned the police post haste at which point the bikers fled. My brother and I collected y’all, brought you to our family home, mended your wounds and have been caring for y’all ever since.” answered Mr. Leviticus promptly.
Before Joel could get the next question out of his mouth the monstrous silhouette standing in the doorway made its way into the room carrying two dinner plates, one in each hand. The mountain of a man with gnarled and twisted limbs like that of a ancient oak coated in a thick layer of sweat placed a plate in front of Mr. Leviticus delicately. The grotesque giant was where grimy dirt encrusted over alls without a shirt. As Mr. Leviticus’s younger brother made his way over to where Joel was seated the floor boards strained to support the weight of his extremely large frame. The long greasy unkept hair obscured the titans face especially since Mr. Leviticus’s brother tended to walk with his head lowered as if in mourning. Mr. Leviticus’s brother made his way over to Joel where he unceremoniously dropped the plate in front of Joel. The plate crashed down upon the table with a loud clatter which sent some of the meat juice to splatter upon the table.
“ID!” yelled Mr. Leviticus outraged, “You know quite well this is a family heirloom and must be treated with the respect it deserves. Must you be such an uncouth savage brother? Your just lucky that what you lack in the mind you make up for in body. Now leave us and don’t let playing with the food to even enter your minuscule mind.”
Id who had frozen into a statue at the mention of his name cocked his head sideways with his back to his brother Mr. Leviticus as if he was struggling to control his own outrage as the case may be. His gargantuan muscles tightening at ever word that came out of his irritated brother’s mouth. It seemed that Mr. Leviticus’s brother Id was physically affected by his brother’s harsh reprimanding. When Mr. Leviticus was done chastising his younger brother Id promptly bent down and wiped the meat juice off the table with one of his hotdog sized fingers. Id the hastily exited the dining room utilizing the door behind where Joel was seated.
“Please excuse my brother’s lack of manners for he is not as civilized as and your aforementioned brother we and I did warn you his appearance is quite off-putting especially upon the in initial meeting.” said Mr. Leviticus apologetically before continuing “Dig in Mr. Fletcher you need to regain your strength.”
Joel and Mr. Leviticus ate in silence. Joel couldn’t help but notice the pork chops were fresh and succulent unlike any he had had before. The meat was so tender it melted in Joel’s mouth coating his young with the fantastic taste of the meat. The smell of the meat was intoxicating just on its own.
“Pardon me Mr. Leviticus but this pork is divine I’d hate my brother to miss such a grand meal.” Joel said in all honesty.
“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher your brother is here in spirit and on the plate.” Mr. Leviticus said matter of factly with a slight sneer.
“What the hell are you talking about, what are you saying?” Joel asked in full blown panic his heart pounding as if it was attempting hammer its way through Joel’s ribcage.
“You see Mr. Fletcher when times are tough and food is scarce my family’s motto is “If there is no meat there is always man” and this motto has gotten us through many a lean time in our history. We are you see cannibals of conviction and convenance .” announced Mr. Leviticus with a growing grin of sadistic delight as Joel processed what he had just been told.
“Thats fucking insane, your insane!” screamed Joel at the top of his lungs, “This is bullshit!! Your a liar! Your fucking lying you sick son of a bitch!” Joel fought relentlessly at the chains that confined him to the chair trying desperately to free himself.
“Id can you summon Mr. Fletchers brother to the table please I would appreciate it so.” Mr. Leviticus said in a booming voice that dominated the room.
Joel was terrified, completely confused and disoriented. His pulse was racing like a jack rabbits on meth, sweet was rolling down his face like a mid summer rain shower. His eyes frantically searched the room finding nothing to hope for. Joel was trapped alone with two cannibal brothers one of which claimed that they killed and cooked his brother. Not only that but the mentally crippling thought that he may have in deed dined upon his brothers flesh drove Joel to the point of lunacy.
The slow solid steps echoed down the hallway as Id returned to the dinning room. Joel’s racing mind was flooding his head with horrible scenarios of torture and death. Joel was so wrought with panic it seemed that he could actually feel his hair growing. Finally Id’s imposing body once again filled the doorway behind Joel his shadow looming over him like a storm cloud waiting out the calm before the storm. Id crept up behind Joel stopping directly behind him. As Id lurked behind Joel could hear the labored breath of Id with the steady deep inhalations that ended more or less in a exacerbated sigh coming from directly above his head, but Joel was to terrified to even entertain the idea of looking up into the face of the monstrosity standing over him.
“Where is my brother you demented backwoods inbred hillbilly son of a bitch? Where is HE?!” demanded Joel in frustrated anger struggling so hard the chains that bound him rattled like a wind chimes in a hurricane.
“Id if you’d be so kind” said Mr. Leviticus in a monotone voice indicating his boredom with the matter.
Without warning the immense arm swung around in front of Joel and slammed something on the table before withdrawing itself back to its owner standing behind of Joel. It happened so fast that Joel was initially too startled to comprehend what was happening, and sat transfixed by fear like a deer in the headlights of an eighteen wheeler barreling down upon it. Then Joel saw what Id had deposited upon the table in front of him, his brothers severed head.
“JESUS CHRIST ZANDER!” exclaimed Joel in a fevered pitch as he gazed upon his brothers decapitated head.
“Don’t worry Mr. Fletcher you aren’t long for this world yourself so the time of grievance over eating your brother will be short I assure you” said Mr. Leviticus leering as he bent forward running his tongue over his yellow nicotine stained teeth.
“You see Mr. Fletcher whats on tomorrow night’s dinner menu is you, but until then how would you like some dessert?”