house of cards :: m.g.c.

0.7

in front of zoe and mali was an elegant oak dining table that could've seated at least twenty people. the table was stocked with dishes of all kinds. but they didn't feel like eating what was on offer.

uh, oh, here comes the chef,
from all the screams he's now deaf,
he's number two,
he'll make you into stew,
the chef's run out of people to cook,
watch out or you'll be next in his recipe book.

the sound of a knife being sharpened echoed throughout the large dining room. a deep chuckle came from the kitchen. the nine teens edged closer to the other side of the room towards another door. they were going well until a young girl of fourteen bumped into a chair and placed her hand on the roast chicken.

and then she screamed.

because it was not a chicken at all but a human head, the eye sockets overflowing with stuffing and the mouth opened to show off the severed tongue.

but the young girl's cry was cut short when a cleaver cut through the air and lodged itself into the poor girl's neck. a collective gasp went around the room as she fell onto the table and a plate of literal finger food went flying and clattered onto the ground in front of a man.

the chef was a burly man. his arms were muscular from chopping through human bones, his hands were easily as big as the face of a watermelon and he stood with a height of seven foot nine inches. he grinned maliciously down at the children, showing off his mangled yellow and brown teeth, and brought another two cleavers in front of his face. the voice once again crackled to life.

save your begging,
he's not listening,
your flesh will feed us all,
we'll fill up the dining hall,
you can try and escape,
but he'll turn into an ape,
to leave,
you'll have to deceive.

"fuck this shit." a boy of eighteen said and made a mad dash for the door. he got only six metres before the chef had pinned him down and started hacking him to death, starting with his fingers, toes, ears and nose so that his death would be slow and painful. the chef's cleaver came down over the top of his head, exposing skull and a fraction of brain. he cut a long strip along the boy's stomach to let him bleed out then shoved the thick knife down the boy's throat and twisted it. he made a strangled noise before his head fell to the floor with a heavy klunk.

by now, the remaining seven had made a move for the safety of the lockable door on the other side of the room. zoe made it to the metal door first and swung it open. the chef threw cleavers left and right from behind them, chasing after them. he had managed to take down two but the rest had made in through the door to safety. or so they thought.

the phone rung, an old dial one sitting on a table beside the brown leather couch. an emo-looking girl with short black and pink hair and dark eyeliner stepped forward and picked it up.

welcome to the third,
i think after this you will have preferred,
the chef with his killers degree,
or the girl with the innocent plea,
good luck,
escaping this muck.

"help me! please, help me!'