“I am the living bread, the one who came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread he will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world. The Jews therefore disputed with one another, saying, How can he give us to eat his flesh? Jesus therefore said to them, Verily, verily, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life in yourselves. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life” (from the Gospel of John).

On a summer evening, in a large, dark basement of a house in suburban New York City, there was a male figure standing there watching television. He wore a denim shirt and stood with his back to me.
He wore long blond hair, which he gathered into a ponytail.
As he followed a musical concert, he held a glass in his hand, which he brought closer to his mouth to drink some dark liquid.
“We don’t need no education.
We don’t need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teacher, leave them kids alone
Hey, teacher, leave them kids alone…”
On TV they were not broadcasting just any concert. The song was a driving part of “Roger Waters – The Wall – Live in Berlin 1990″.
Musical notes and words danced with dust and soft light from the TV set.
“… All in all it’s just another brick in the wall
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall
We don’t need no education
We don’t need no thought control
No dark sarcasm in the classroom
Teachers, leave them kids alone
Hey, teachers, leave those kids alone…”

The man raised his glass in toast to the television and then drank the entire contents. He set the glass down on top of a table beside him, to his right, to remove his shirt. He did not unbutton it but slipped it off as if it were a shirt. Underneath the garment he had nothing; he was completely naked. Showing flat buttocks of white skin, he danced in an uncoordinated style, as if he would fall to the ground at any moment. Meanwhile, the song continued:
“All in all you’re just another brick in the wall.
All in all you’re just another brick in the wall
Wrong, do it again
If you don’t eat yer meat, you can’t have any pudding
How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat?
You! Yes, you behind the bikesheds, stand still laddy”

The song had ended and the man was still thirsty. So he took the glass in his hand to pour himself some more liquid to drink. He moved a few feet to his left, from where came a muffled feminine whimper, which increased noticeably in intensity as he approached. The whine resembled the nuance of Roger Waters’ electric guitar sound….
In the semi-darkness of the basement was a completely naked woman bound at the neck, forehead, stomach and feet above a marble slab.
Duct tape taped her mouth, preventing her from screaming but not from emitting whimpers of pain, suffering and terror.
Brown eyes, almost completely reddened with tears could observe
only the ceiling.
At the edges of the slab, a steel channel surrounded it all, and drops of blood dripped inside it. Drops from a severed pinky finger of the woman. The man grabbed a steel cutter, stained with blood, that was hanging on the wall, along with the other tools. He approached the victim, grasped her middle finger firmly and sliced off a small piece that he placed in his mouth. Jaw movements munched and tasted a small human portion
as if they were those of a dog who was eating a big delicious crunch. Meanwhile, as the woman’s whimpering reached maximum decibels, copious red liquid dripped from the second severed finger, and the man took the opportunity to put his glass under it and drink more warm blood. The liquid flowed down the esophagus causing the cannibal to emit a guttural cry of satisfaction.
The man threw the glass on the floor, which shattered into a thousand pieces, and picked up the remote control to turn the TV volume up to maximum. After that he grabbed a large steel axe with his right hand, again from the wall of tools, and approached the victim who could not see him and no longer had the strength to scream because she was almost knocked out by the excruciating pain. In the semi-darkness, the executioner placed his left hand on the woman’s leg and then took the momentum with his right arm to chop off a piece of it.
And so, as the ripping apart of the body took place, a dark silhouette stopped in front of the small basement window, as if it wanted to witness, from the outside, the gruesome spectacle. It was a black cat who could not see inside the basement room because of the frosted glass, but he could smell the fresh scent of blood. Annoyed that he could not attend the feast, he moved away from the building meowing thunderously until his copper-colored eyes caught sight of a rat on the side of the road. The rat tried to flee to an unlit area, but was betrayed by the moonlight, and so the feline, in a matter of seconds, bit and greedily mauled it, still mindful of the smell of the cannibal victim’s blood.


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