Oprahannibal Winfrey

Oprah! No!

"Oprah?" I shouted. It had been about an hour since I had last seen her in the forest and at this point I was worried for her own safety.

"Oprah!" I yelled as loud as I thought I could. There was still no response. I cleared my throat. "Oprah Gail Winfrey! Where are you?" I heard a low growl to my left. I looked over and there she was, face covered in crimson, mouth open, her deep brown eyes reflecting the moon. Underneath her there was a body. A human body. "Opraaah, you can't keep on letting this happen," I said, annoyed.

"I'm sorry, Gayle. I can't resist it, it's in my DNA. Although I've been told to transform myself to become more than just a person driven my nature. I need to be more self controlled," she replied, her mouth dripping with blood.

"It's okay, let's get you cleaned up, the cops said you were on your last warning. It's a good thing you're famous." I said trying to make her feel better. This was the third time she'd run away from our 52-million-dollar home we, along with Stedman, had shared for years. "Whose body did you devour this time?"

"I think it might have been Eli Roth?" she said as a piece of flesh fell out of her mouth like spaghetti. "It could have been Zachary Quinto, the one who denied my show twice in 2009, they look very similar."

"That's alright." It was not alright.

Oprah and I have been friends since our twenties. We met at a Halloween party, where she dressed up as a vampire and pretended to suck Bill Gates' blood, but instead of faking it she actually punctured his skin and got a restraining order. Tracey Wigginton would have been proud.

Oprah and I did not know what to do with the body yet, so we decided to place the remnants of Eliachary Roquinto in one of the garbage bags I always have on me. The bags act as to-go containers at this point. This is because Oprah can't wait long enough between her monthly food supply of bodies donated to science which are technically bought by Oprah on the black market. (Shhh, that's on the DL.)

"The police will probably come to our house tonight considering they won't know where Eli Roth/Zachary Quinto went and every time there's a celebrity disappearance all signs point to you." I said. "I'm sorry. When we get back I'll stage it so it looks like you were at home the whole time for when the police come by."

"I don't understand; why do people always assume it's me?" Oprah asked, confused.

"I mean, let's list your body count. There was Khloe and Kendall Kardashian, Winona Judd, Matt Lauer, and, like, I don't know, a billion other celebrities."

"Fair. But you're nothing if you're not the truth."

I gave her a pleading look.

"I guess when we get back you can stage me: it's for the best."

"Thank you, Oprah. Stedman would be proud, that is if you hadn't eaten him."

"How many times do I have to tell you it wasn't my fault; James Cordon took the first bite!"

As we walked back to our house I could already hear the sirens from atop the hill. They were blaring and that's when Oprah and I booked it. We ran as fast as we could to the house with Roquinto in tow until we reached the door. I rushed inside and ran to the basement where we have the industrial sized refrigerator unknown to most. Inside lie John Boyega, The Rock, and Ellen, you know which one. Oprah always had beef with her and got her revenge when she was walking outside after her show and asked her out for tea. Let's just say I shouldn't spill the tea about what happened next.

While I was gone Oprah made herself seem like she was at home the entire time and to make it more believable she got into the shower for two reasons. 1) To avoid getting blood all over the place. 2) So she could let her muscles relax especially after all the running she had to do to get Zachary Quinto(?).

There was a knock at the door. I opened it and saw the officer standing there.

"Have you seen Zachary Quinto in the past five hours?" said the officer.

So that's who it was.

"No," I said.

"I'm going to ask you again. Have you seen Zachary—wait, I'm getting information that it could have been Eli Roth in the past five hours?"

"No officer, I have not," I said, pulling out my smooth, almost forgotten, Maryland accent.

"Are you sure, Miss?" said the cop.

"Yes sir." I stopped myself from spitting out the truth. I'm not a good liar.

All of the sudden I heard a screech coming from upstairs.

"Oprah! Are you alright?" I slightly raised my voice. There was no answer. "Oprah?" I raised my voice even louder.

I ran up the stairs as fast as I could and the officer followed right behind me with his men lined up at the front of the house waiting, just waiting for the signal to take down Fort Winfrey.

"Gayle! You beautiful being!" Oprah screamed.

I walked into the bathroom and all I could see was Oprah, in her bathrobe struggling for life as Ina Garten tried to run away with half of Oprah's arm in her mouth. The cops did get her and shoot her down quickly, but for me everything seemed to slow down. In front of me lay my best friend, Oprah Gail Winfrey. Her mouth slightly parted, her chest breathing heavy, her hair still wet from the shower, and her face was still covered with a green cucumber mask. I yelled in desperation for a doctor. One of the police men arrived shortly and tried to save her, but there was nothing he could do, so he called for the EMS who were able to save her.

Oprah's eyes began to slowly flutter open. She took a deep breath, beginning to mutter words under her breath. I leaned in. She seemed to be drifting off into a wonderful dream. I finally heard her words: "You get a body! You get a body! And you get a body! ..." She trailed off into a deep relaxing sleep. However in saying this Oprah had just given a tip to the policeman.

Immediately the officer dispatched a team to search for nearby bodies when they found what was assumed to be Eli Roth by a 51% to 49% vote, whose body made him Oprah's most recent victim.

After further investigation the law enforcement found 35 celebrities and someone named Ke$ha in our industrial sized fridge.

A mass funeral was held for all of her victims.Those who attended included the Obamas, Bill Murray, Meryl Streep's dog Spinee, and Zachary Quinto. The event was a solemn one, but hey, at least Oprah didn't have to go to jail, for long. #thxnepotism.

The End

Just kidding! There's more! Here's what the gang is up to today:

Me (Gayle King) - Living it up on house arrest in Oprah's mansion.

Oprah - Spending only thirty-five minutes in jail, one minute per victim because that's how the world of being worth a billion dollars works.

Zachary Quinto - Crying every day because he couldn't believe that he was so close to death. He has since traveled a lot and bought a car he has affectionately named the "Winfreak"

Now that's the actual end.