48 Do you Have Chicken Legs? (2/2)

Alferdo cursed his luck for the tenth time as he ducked beneath the rubble of the nearby building, once again loudly berating himself for gallivanting on a raid with his family and the other members of the triumvirate.

In the beginning he could almost see himself all dressed up in his golden puff shirt and his hair slicked back, he was also going to wear the glasses that his sister had picked out for him, the deep black shades that would reflect the color of his soul..

Now if anyone were to look at him, he would look more like a fashion model that had stood for the testing of a nuclear disaster, what with his broken and shambled glasses and his torn-into-strips shirt. And his pant, ughh it looked like one that he had loaned to a neighbor elephant.

The building that he had hidden himself behind had once been the meeting place of his family where they would gather and play their cards, now it had been physically torn down by a child! Ripped apart and disposed of, he could hear the screams of the men he had gathered as they were all brutally killed by the one who would later be simply called 'Gluttony'.

HE had come like a storm tearing and ripping apart his men like paper figurines. Popping off their heads with a swipe and breaking their arms with a simple chop. An ever present chicken leg between his teeth and a fat round tummy bouncing up and down with vigor.

Now here he sat shivering as the footsteps grew nearer, he briefly zoomed back to the time he had seen the child monster kill the other two family heads, merely punching their heads once causing it to explode.

He felt like he was living in a dream, the thud of the footsteps constantly drawing nearer, before suddenly stopping ”Oh. I ran out of chicken legs.” the CHILD remarked, before again making his way towards Alferdo.

Alferdo was not one who believed in a higher power, but now he could not help himself from praying as he squatted down shivering, bathed in the dust and rubble that filled the field of the massacre.

As the beat of his heart grew louder, he slowly looked up, his slicked back hair now glued to his temple, and his dirty green eyes contracting in fear, blood seeped beneath his pointed shoes and his moustache quivered incessantly, the voice of death called and he shuddered.

”Do you have chicken legs?”