Patricia’s car rolled to a stop in the garage, the soft hum of the engine dying down as she parked. She exhaled, savoring a brief moment of stillness after a long Monday at work. The soft evening light filtered through the garage windows, casting faint shadows over the packed trunk of her car. After turning off the ignition, she popped the trunk open with a click, revealing a sea of grocery bags crammed together, the result of her usual weekly shopping trip.
Patricia always made sure to stock up on enough food for the week, carefully planning meals to avoid multiple trips. Today had been no different. The back of her car was filled to the brim—paper bags bulging with fruits, vegetables, snacks, and various household essentials. However, Patricia had no intention of hauling the heavy load inside by herself, especially when she had two able-bodied daughters lounging somewhere in the house.
Leaving the trunk wide open, she made her way toward the interior garage door that led directly to the kitchen. The soft padding of her flats tapped lightly against the concrete floor as she reached for the doorknob, her fingers gripping it with a sense of routine. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by the faint murmur of the television echoing from the living room. “Good”, she thought. “At least one of them is downstairs.” Usually, the girls would hide away in their rooms, doors shut tight, forcing her to trek upstairs just to get their attention. But not today.
Patricia set her heavy purse down on the kitchen table with a soft thud, the weight of the day slowly slipping away. She took a quick glance around. Everything was in its usual state of chaos. The kitchen was still tidy, but the hallway just beyond was an entirely different story. Shoes, coats, and backpacks were strewn across the floor, creating a haphazard path of clutter that led directly to the living room. Their school shoes, mud-streaked and unlaced, were dumped right in the middle of the floor as if the girls had simply shrugged them off without a second thought. Backpacks leaned precariously against the wall, coats draped over them as though the hangers in the closet were merely decorative.
Patricia shook her head, her lips pressed in a thin line. She peeked around the corner and saw her two daughters lounging in the living room, perfectly relaxed in their respective spots. Avery lay sprawled across the couch, fingers glued to her tablet, her face illuminated by the bluish glow of the screen. Abbey, meanwhile, had claimed the recliner, her eyes fixed on the television as some brainless teen drama unfolded before her. Neither of them seemed to notice their mother’s arrival.
"Girls! Come get the groceries!" Patricia called out from the doorway, her voice cutting through the ambient noise. Both girls groaned in unison, their faces twisting into exaggerated expressions of reluctance. Abbey shifted in her chair, sighing dramatically before finally dragging herself out of the recliner, while Avery slowly peeled herself off the couch, dropping her tablet onto the cushion beside her. Without a word, the two sisters trudged past Patricia, dragging their feet on the way to the garage.
"Thank you." Patricia muttered sarcastically, watching as they disappeared into the garage to fetch the bags. She couldn’t help but smirk to herself. For all the cooking and cleaning she did around the house, carrying in a few bags was the least they could do every now and then.
With the girls occupied, Patricia turned her attention to the mess they had left in the hallway. She started by gathering their jackets, the fabric still warm from their bodies. After shaking each coat out with a bit of annoyance, she retrieved two hangers from the hallway closet and neatly hung each jacket, pausing to add her own coat to the orderly row. Her attention then shifted to the shoes scattered across the entryway. With a sigh, she slipped out of her flats and neatly placed them on the floor mat. Bending down, she grabbed her daughters’ sneakers, the soles caked with dried dirt and mud, and carefully lined them up next to her own flats. As she arranged the muddy sneakers, she made a mental note to mop the hallway later, her eyes narrowing at the mess they’d dragged in.
Satisfied with the now-organized space, Patricia made her way back to the kitchen just as the sound of grocery bags being plopped onto the table filled the room. She glanced over at the bags. Avery and Abbey had dumped them unceremoniously, their careless placement making it obvious they were eager to finish and get back to their lounging. Patricia knew better than to complain. At least they were helping.
Before she could even start putting the groceries away, though, Patricia headed to the sink. She was particular about cleanliness, especially when it came to food preparation. The thought of handling groceries without clean hands made her cringe. She turned on the faucet and scrubbed her hands thoroughly, letting the warm water and soap wash away any germs she might have picked up at the store.
Meanwhile, in the background, her daughters continued their reluctant trips between the garage and kitchen, dragging in bags and dumping them without care. The table gradually filled with groceries, and by the time the last of the bags was brought in, Patricia heard the slam of the kitchen door followed by the familiar drone of the television being unpaused.
"Thanks, girls!" Patricia called out with a chuckle, shaking her head at their dramatic attitudes as if carrying groceries for five minutes was the most difficult task in the world.
Now alone in the kitchen, Patricia set to work, unpacking each bag in the order of priority. She tackled the larger ones first, organizing the contents by category—fresh vegetables went into the fridge, boxes of snacks were neatly arranged in the pantry, and canned goods found their place in the cabinets. As she worked, the pile of groceries steadily diminished until only a few smaller bags remained.
When the majority of the table was cleared, Patricia finally turned her attention to one small, inconspicuous grocery bag. Unlike the others, this one held something... special. She reached into the bag and pulled out a clear, cylindrical container, holding it up to her face with a gleeful smile. Inside the container, twelve tiny men huddled together, their small bodies trembling in fear. Their eyes darted around, unable to comprehend the massive world outside their container.
The men, barely half her age and a fraction of her size, looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes. Patricia's smile deepened as she inspected them. They were fragile, perfect for what she had planned later, and unlike the debacle that happened last week, there would be no escape for these men. She held the container close to her face, her predatory gaze sweeping over the trembling figures inside. Some were standing, others sitting, but all were visibly quivering under her cold scrutiny.
She set the container down on the countertop, right next to the stove, leaving the men to survey the vast kitchen around them. Towering over them were various jars and canisters, their contents unknown to the tiny prisoners. A large wooden knife block stood nearby, its razor-sharp blades hidden from view, while the humming refrigerator loomed in the distance. The men, oblivious to the horrors awaiting them, remained trapped in their plastic prison, unable to comprehend the kitchen's dangers.
Patricia moved on, continuing to put away the rest of the groceries, paying no attention to the trembling men. She had no need to stow them away—they were part of tonight’s dinner plans. It had been a while since she made spaghetti, and with her daughters being notoriously picky eaters, Patricia figured the familiar dish would keep them satisfied. As she worked, her mind lingered on the upcoming meal, already anticipating the unique ingredient she’d soon be adding to her famous meat sauce.
With the last grocery bag emptied and its contents neatly put away, Patricia wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, mentally shifting gears from unpacking to preparing dinner. She stepped over to the storage cabinet, her fingers grazing the smooth, polished wood as she pulled it open to retrieve her tools. First, she grabbed a large stainless-steel pot for the pasta, its weight familiar in her hands. Then, a medium-sized saucepan followed, its shiny black surface reflecting the soft kitchen lighting. Patricia placed the saucepan carefully on the stovetop, leaving the burner off for now, and carried the empty pot to the sink.
The faucet creaked slightly as she twisted it, and soon, a steady stream of water poured into the pot, splashing softly against the metal surface. Patricia watched as the water rose, swirling with tiny bubbles. When it reached about halfway, she turned the faucet off and, with a soft grunt, lifted the pot, cradling it close to her body as she carefully made her way back to the stove. With a heavy thud, she set it on the back burner and twisted the knob, clicking the stove to life. The burner flared into a ring of blue flames as she cranked it up to the highest setting. Soon, the water would be boiling, ready for the pasta.
As the water heated up, Patricia pivoted smoothly to the upper cabinets, her eyes scanning the rows of neatly organized canned goods until she spotted what she needed: a can of tomato sauce, its label brightly advertising a rich, hearty flavor. She plucked it off the shelf and set it on the countertop with a soft thud.
Next came the search for her trusty can opener. Patricia opened a drawer, its contents rattling slightly as she sifted through the utensils. Her kitchen was meticulously organized, so it only took a few seconds before her fingers closed around the cool metal handle of the can opener. With a soft click, she attached the opener to the edge of the tomato sauce can, the blade biting into the metal with ease. As she twisted the handle, the metal top began to lift away, revealing the thick, crimson sauce inside. The rich scent of tomatoes wafted up as the lid gradually peeled back.
Once the lid was nearly off, Patricia held the can over the waiting saucepan and tipped it slightly. The sauce oozed out slowly at first, then poured in a smooth, steady stream, splattering slightly as it hit the cool pan. She tapped the bottom of the can with her hand, coaxing out every last drop of sauce before discarding the empty tin. The rich aroma of tomatoes filled the air, but before she could heat it, there was still an important ingredient missing—meat.
Her family never minded whether she used meatballs or meat sauce, but Patricia personally preferred the latter. It was quicker and less fussy. Typically, ground beef would be her go-to, but tonight she was in the mood to try something… different.
With a slight smirk, Patricia bent down to one of the lower cabinets. The door creaked as she opened it, revealing an array of kitchen utensils, tools, and appliances. After a moment of searching, her fingers wrapped around the handle of a compact, hand-pressed food chopper. The stainless-steel blades of the device gleamed as she pulled it out. It was a simple tool, often used to slice up fruits and vegetables into neat, bite-sized pieces. But for Patricia, it had far more creative and... unconventional uses.
Standing up, she placed the chopper on the counter beside the saucepan. She initially reached for her trusted wooden cutting board, its smooth surface still almost new. But as her fingers brushed the grain, she paused, thinking better of it. The board was practically new, its smooth surface unmarred by stains or heavy use. She had no desire to tarnish it with the mess that was about to come.
Instead, she rummaged through the cabinet again and found her old plastic cutting board. It had seen better days, its once-clear surface now scarred with deep knife marks from countless uses. Still, it was perfect for tonight—easier to clean and far less precious than the wooden one. She placed it on the countertop, smoothing it out to ensure it lay flat.
Patricia ran her fingers along the edges of the cutting board, feeling the worn plastic beneath her hands. The small nicks and grooves told stories of many meals before this one, and tonight would be no exception. She positioned the chopper above the board, ensuring everything was in place for what was to come. The kitchen was still, save for the gentle hiss of water heating on the stove.
Once everything was set, she reached for the nearby container sitting quietly on the counter. With a slight twist of her wrist, the lid popped off with a soft click, and she casually tossed it aside. Her hand dipped into the container, fingers sifting through the tiny, helpless bodies inside. Their terrified faces stared up at her, but Patricia paid them little mind. Without a thought, she plucked one of the men at random between her thumb and forefinger, his minuscule frame trembling between her grasp.
The unfortunate man didn’t even have time to scream as he was lifted from the safety of the container and placed unceremoniously onto the cold plastic surface of the cutting board. His tiny limbs scrambled to find footing on the slick surface, and his eyes darted around in panic. His entire world shifted as Patricia swiftly positioned the food chopper over him. The transparent walls of the chopper closed in, trapping him in a prison of plastic and steel. The man looked around in confusion, desperately trying to make sense of his situation, his heart pounding wildly. And then, without warning, Patricia’s hand came down with force.
THWACK
The sharp blades slammed into the cutting board with a sickening crunch, slicing through the man’s fragile body with brutal efficiency. Blood splattered across the board as his body was cleaved clean in two, the halves tumbling in opposite directions. Patricia lifted her hand from the chopper, the blades retracting with a soft, mechanical click. Droplets of blood dripped from the metal edges, landing with soft splashes next to the now mutilated man. His lifeless eyes stared blankly as the last shreds of consciousness faded from him. But Patricia wasn’t finished.
THWACK
With another quick motion, the blades descended again, chopping his remains into smaller pieces. Limbs, chunks of flesh, and streams of blood scattered across the cutting board. The other men in the container could only watch in horror, their tiny bodies trembling uncontrollably as they witnessed the brutal dismemberment of one of their own. The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the soft gasps of the remaining men as Patricia reached into their container once more.
Her fingers wrapped around another man, lifting him into the air. This one squirmed more violently, thrashing about in her firm grip in a desperate bid to escape. She placed him next to the dismembered remains of his predecessor before placing the food chopper over him, his terrified eyes darting from the blood-soaked board to the metal blades looming above him. He tried to bolt, his legs trembling beneath him, but before he could make a move—
THWACK
The second man’s body split in two, the sound of his bones snapping mixing with the sharp crack of the chopper hitting the board. Patricia’s hand hovered above the device for a brief moment before lifting it again, letting his butchered remains fall limp beside the first man.
THWACK
With another decisive blow, his body was reduced to a collection of tiny chunks. Blood oozed from the growing pile of dismembered limbs, pooling around the base of the chopper. The remaining men in the container were gripped by terror, their pitiful wails and panicked scrambling a futile protest against the inevitable.
Patricia reached in again, snatching another man without effort. This one fought harder than the rest, kicking and thrashing with all his might. In her annoyance, she squeezed him tighter, her fingers bruising his fragile body. As she brought him toward the cutting board, he struggled so violently that he slipped from her grasp, tumbling back into the container and landing with a dull thud on top of another man.
"Ugh. Stay still!" Patricia snapped, her voice filled with irritation as she reached down again. This time, she gripped him much more firmly, his tiny body crushed between her fingers. She dropped him onto the cutting board, his legs buckling beneath him, and reset the chopper over him with an eerie precision.
Unlike the others, this one wasn’t going to wait for his demise. The second his feet hit the plastic, he sprinted, desperately trying to find a way out. His tiny fists pounded against the transparent walls of the chopper, hoping beyond hope for an escape. But Patricia’s hand was already moving.
THWACK
His body went limp, his torso sliced clean in two. One half of his mutilated form slid down the side of the chopper, smearing blood across the plastic, while the other half slumped toward the center. Patricia, ever meticulous, adjusted the chopper to spread his halves apart, ensuring the blades would cut evenly.
THWACK
His remains were reduced to bloody fragments, scattered among the others. The blades of the chopper dripped with blood now, staining the once-shiny metal. But Patricia paid no mind to the growing mess. She could always clean it later.
“Mom!” A voice called out from behind her, snapping Patricia momentarily from her grisly task. She turned her head and saw her daughter Avery standing in the doorway, holding her tablet.
“Yes, sweetie?” Patricia replied, her voice softening as she turned back to the counter. She reached into the container and grabbed another man, setting him on the cutting board.
“Can you sign my progress report?” Avery stepped closer, extending the tablet toward her mother.
Before Patricia could bring down the chopper, she paused, grabbing the tablet from Avery’s hand. The man beneath the device frantically pounded on the walls, screaming for help as he looked at the carnage strewn across the cutting board. His heart raced, knowing he would share the same fate if he couldn’t escape.
Patricia skimmed the report with mild interest, spotting a few C’s. She raised an eyebrow, her expression tightening slightly. "We'll discuss this after dinner." she said, handing the tablet back to Avery. "Now shoo, I'm busy cooking."
Without hesitation, Patricia returned to the cutting board, her frustration manifesting in the next strike.
THWACK
The tiny man beneath the chopper was cut in half, his body twitching slightly as it separated. The extra force Patricia applied didn’t do much beyond gouging the cutting board deeper, the blades sharp enough to slice through him regardless of her anger. She quickly realized her mistake, pulling her hand back slightly, but not enough to lose her rhythm.
“What’s for dinner?” Avery asked, eyeing the boiling water and the chopped remains of the men on the board.
“Spaghetti.” Patricia replied coolly, her hand already moving again.
THWACK
Avery’s eyes lit up. “Yes!” she cheered, completely unbothered by the sight of the mutilated men in front of her. With a skip in her step, she disappeared from the kitchen, eager for her favorite meal.
Now alone, Patricia surveyed her handiwork. The cutting board was littered with the bodies of the tiny men, their limbs and torsos scattered in an unorganized, bloody mess. She still had a few more to go, but first, she needed more space. She grabbed a large kitchen knife from the block, its blade gleaming in the dim light. With a smooth motion, she scraped the remains into a neat pile, the blood smearing across the surface of the board in thick, dark streaks.
Once the cutting board was cleared, Patricia reached over to the stove and turned the burner on beneath the saucepan of tomato sauce. The flame flickered to life, and she set it to a low simmer, letting the sauce bubble gently. The rich scent of tomatoes and herbs began to fill the kitchen, curling through the air like a comforting embrace. Patricia inhaled deeply, savoring the warmth of the aroma that now mingled with the quiet rhythm of her task.
THWACK
The familiar sound of the chopper echoed through the kitchen. Outside, the front door creaked open, followed by the soft click of heels against hardwood. Claire had just arrived home from work.
THWACK
The rhythmic sound continued as Claire went through her usual routine.
THWACK
First, she shrugged off her tailored coat, hanging it by the entryway with the nonchalance of someone accustomed to long workdays.
THWACK
She slipped out of her polished heels, letting her feet rest from a day of walking across office floors.
THWACK
The warm, familiar voices of her daughters greeted her as they lounged in the living room.
THWACK
After a few greetings and casual conversation, Claire made her way toward the kitchen, following the unmistakable sound of the chopping that had been a steady, rhythmic beat since she'd entered.
THWACK
Stepping into the kitchen, Claire's eyes landed on Patricia standing by the counter, the repetitive noise telling her that her wife was hard at work, though she couldn’t quite see what Patricia was chopping. The kitchen was cozy, illuminated by the soft overhead light, with the bubbling sauce casting a warm, inviting glow over the stovetop. Sneaking up behind her, Claire’s fingers reached out and gave Patricia a playful pinch on the curve of her butt.
"Stop." Patricia muttered with a smirk, caught off guard but far too focused on her work to let it fully distract her.
THWACK
"You know I can’t." Claire whispered into her ear, pressing her chest gently against Patricia’s back. She wrapped her arms around her, letting her fingers linger just above the curve of her hips. Claire leaned forward slightly, peering over Patricia’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the cutting board. A playful grin spread across her lips as she realized what Patricia was preparing. "What's for dinner?"
THWACK
"Spaghetti." Patricia replied matter-of-factly as she reached into the container beside her. Her fingers plucked out another squirming man, his tiny body writhing helplessly between her thumb and forefinger. With practiced ease, she positioned him on the bloodstained cutting board and lowered the food chopper over his trembling form, his wide eyes peering up at the sharp blades above him.
THWACK
“Mmm, with your special meat sauce.” Claire’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she leaned forward to get a better look at the bloodied remains scattered across the cutting board. The men’s once-whole bodies were now reduced to hacked limbs and torsos, strewn across the plastic surface like discarded scraps. She chuckled softly. “Save me a few live ones.”
"Yeah, yeah." Patricia murmured in acknowledgment as Claire unwrapped her arms from around her waist, allowing Patricia to continue with her task uninterrupted.
THWACK
Patricia continued her work, the last few men meeting the same brutal fate as their predecessors. One by one, they were sliced down the middle, their bodies separating into halves before being diced further into small, twitching chunks.
THWACK
The cutting board was now a mess of limbs, torsos, and shattered bones, barely distinguishable from one another.
With two live men remaining in the container, Patricia paused for a moment. She glanced at the mutilated pile before her, satisfied with the amount of meat she had prepared. There was plenty for her sauce, so she figured she should save the last two for Claire. She set the food chopper aside and lifted the cutting board, tilting it over the saucepan. The pile of dismembered limbs and chunks of flesh tumbled into the thick tomato sauce with a sickening plop.
The smell intensified as their minced bodies merged with the sauce, limbs vanishing beneath the bubbling surface. A few stray appendages clung to the board, and Patricia used the edge of her knife to scrape off the remaining bits, ensuring none of the "meat" was wasted.
After setting the board aside, she grabbed a large wooden spoon. With a steady, deliberate motion, she stirred the sauce, swirling the meat chunks in a clockwise motion. The remains of the men blended seamlessly into the thick, red sauce, their bodies becoming indistinguishable from the tomatoes and herbs.
Satisfied with the mixture, Patricia wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before stepping away from the stove. The two surviving men in the container watched in silent terror, their hearts pounding in their chests. They knew their time was limited, but they couldn’t tear their eyes away from the gruesome scene that had unfolded before them. Their eyes darted nervously from the simmering pot of sauce to Patricia’s every move.
Patricia moved calmly around the kitchen, pouring the dried spaghetti into the large pot of boiling water. The noodles hissed as they hit the water, and she stirred them briefly before leaving the pasta to cook. The kitchen fell into a temporary silence, save for the soft bubbling of the water and the occasional pop from the simmering sauce.
Time passed, and Patricia returned to the stove, turning off the burner beneath the sauce as it finished cooking. The smell was intoxicating, the rich blend of tomatoes, herbs, and the unmistakable scent of cooked flesh filling the room. But she hadn't forgotten the two men left alive.
Reaching for their container, Patricia tilted it mercilessly over the simmering sauce. The two men tumbled down, their tiny bodies flailing as they fell into the thick, molten sauce with a splash. They resurfaced moments later, screaming in agony as their skin blistered and burned from the heat. Desperately, they swam through the bubbling mixture, gasping for air as their tiny hands tried to claw their way out.
But Patricia showed no mercy. She grabbed the spoon and began to stir once more, sending the two men spinning helplessly through the sauce, their feeble cries drowned out by the churning of the thick mixture. The bubbles of the sauce enveloped them, scalding their flesh, and occasionally pulling them under the surface. Their bodies were battered by the currents, occasionally pulled under by the force of the spoon. Each time they surfaced, they gasped for air, only to be submerged again, their flesh blistering under the relentless heat.
After several more revolutions of the spoon, Patricia was content. She set the spoon down, wiping her hands again before grabbing a stack of plates. She laid them out neatly on the countertop, glancing over at the sauce one last time before calling out to her family.
“Dinner’s ready!” she announced with a casual smile.
Abbey and Avery sprinted into the kitchen, their faces alight with eager anticipation as they fought to be the first to reach the stove. Their footsteps were quick and clumsy, bumping into each other as they rushed toward the food. Breathless, they skidded to a halt by the stove, their wide eyes glued to the plates in their mother's hands. Impatiently, they bounced on their heels, waiting for Patricia to serve them, the smell of dinner only intensifying their excitement.
Patricia, calm as ever, stood by the stove, carefully balancing a plate of plain spaghetti over the simmering saucepan. With steady hands, she scooped a generous spoonful of her signature meat sauce, lifting the spoon high and letting the rich, red sauce drip onto the waiting noodles. The sauce spread over the spaghetti, staining it with the dark crimson hue of slow-cooked tomatoes and flecks of minced men, their limbs and torsos visibly strewn throughout the mixture. Patricia, however, purposefully avoided the two tiny males still drifting weakly in the sauce, their tiny limbs paddling uselessly against the thick liquid as they tried to stay afloat.
She prepared two medium-sized portions, the plates now heavy with spaghetti and sauce, and handed them to her hungry daughters, who snatched them eagerly. Without a word, Abbey and Avery hurried to the dining table, their mouths watering as they sat down and began digging in, shoveling forkfuls of pasta into their mouths with barely a pause for breath. Meanwhile, Claire entered the kitchen with a much more relaxed pace, the complete opposite of her two impatient daughters who were already chowing down at the table.
As Patricia continued to scoop more sauce from the pot, the two live men struggled for their lives, their tiny bodies floundering helplessly in the sea of thick, simmering tomato sauce. With each ladleful Patricia took, they were drawn closer and closer to the bottom of the saucepan. Eventually, one of the men found himself scooped up by the large silver spoon, his tiny body encased in a steaming glob of sauce, unable to move as he was lifted high above the pot. In a matter of seconds, he was free-falling through the air, only to land dazed and disoriented atop a plate of warm spaghetti, the strands of noodles forming a soft, tangled bed beneath him.
Before he could even process his surroundings, the second man followed, tumbling down with another spoonful of sauce. Both men lay there, slick with tomato sauce and helpless, staring upward in terror. Panic filled their eyes as they saw Claire looming above them. Her lips curled into a predatory smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she looked down at her meal. She leaned in, inspecting the spaghetti covered in tomato sauce, bits of minced men scattered across the plate, and the two whole men lying among the noodles.
Without hesitation, Claire picked up her fork, feeling the weight of hunger in her stomach. She stabbed the utensil into the center of her plate, the prongs piercing through the mound of pasta. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she twirled the noodles around the fork, mixing the sauce as she did so. The two men found themselves ensnared in the twirling noodles, the strands wrapping around their limbs and bodies, trapping them in place. They struggled in vain, their tiny voices lost amidst the lively chatter at the dinner table.
Before taking her first bite, Claire reached for the shaker of parmesan cheese, giving it a few firm shakes over her plate. The two men were soon covered in a light dusting of white flakes, their already slim chances of escape dwindling as the cheese settled over their bodies. Claire didn’t waste any time after that. Her fork went straight into the pasta, scooping up a hefty portion of spaghetti, sauce, and one of the trapped men. She brought the fork to her mouth, sucking the noodles off the silverware with a satisfied hum, savoring the rich blend of flavors. The man barely had time to scream before he was dragged into her mouth, his tiny body disappearing between her lips along with the rest of the spaghetti. She chewed slowly, deliberately, the man’s body caught in her mouth, overwhelmed by the taste of pasta and sauce before being swallowed whole. He slid down her throat, his cries fading as he was sent to be digested.
Claire smiled contentedly, licking her lips and wiping off any sauce that had smeared across her mouth. She much preferred the whole men over the chopped-up bits. They added a certain liveliness to the dish, a richer texture that she enjoyed far more than the mere fragments of their butchered counterparts. She made a mental note to tell Patricia how much she liked the whole men next time they had spaghetti.
Returning to her meal, Claire dug her fork into the plate again, this time near the other trapped man. He was still struggling, tangled in the spaghetti, but there was little he could do as the prongs of the fork wrapped the noodles around him once more. Claire brought the fork to her mouth, this time savoring the feeling of the tiny man wriggling between the noodles as she slurped the spaghetti into her mouth. With a soft sigh of satisfaction, she continued eating, the lively conversation around the dinner table blending with the occasional clink of silverware on plates.
As the family chatted about their day, laughter filled the air, and bit by bit, their plates emptied. Every morsel of sauce, every bit of spaghetti, and every piece of "meat" was devoured. The once full plates now lay bare, except for a few stray noodles here and there. Claire, having thoroughly enjoyed her meal, sat back with a content smile, wiping her mouth with a napkin before joining in on the lively conversation.
When dinner was finally over, the family got up from the table, tossing their empty plates into the sink before heading off to their respective corners of the house. Only Patricia remained behind, as usual, to handle the cleanup.
She moved to the sink, turning on the faucet and rinsing off the plates and silverware before loading them into the dishwasher. Her gaze fell on the leftovers in the pot and pan—some noodles and a few scoops of meat sauce remained. Grabbing the colander of remaining spaghetti noodles, she casually dumped them into the trash. Then, she picked up the saucepan, tilting it over the sink as she washed the remaining sauce down the drain. Bits of mutilated men flowed down with the thick, red liquid, their dismembered limbs swirling down the drain without a trace of what they had once been.
Finally, Patricia grabbed the cutting board and the food chopper. Bloodstains and scraps of flesh still clung to the tools, remnants of the gruesome task from earlier. She washed them meticulously under hot, soapy water, scrubbing away every last trace of blood and gore until the tools gleamed, erasing any evidence of the tiny massacre that had taken place earlier that evening. Satisfied, Patricia dried her hands and turned off the sink, her kitchen now spotless and ready for the next meal.