As I peer out of the glaze, the foggy deep waters of my den, I am disturbed by ruckus coming from “the heavens”. Annoyance is what those twerps bring me, all happy and cheerful like they are on top of the world. Well I will show them their happy ending; I will show them. To me, I am the ringmaster of this circus charade, and I am the one who calls out the last act. The monstrous Grendel is coming to town to stir up something special for those Danes, the ones who create the beast in me. I am almost to annoyed to creep my way over there, for the heavens rays burn my skin at ever step I take nearer to life and further out of my dark misery. It is quite comical actually how scared the people are of me. Them turning into stone once I make my way to close into their personal bubble. Pop, I say that every time as the barrier is broken, and my evil spirits have sunk my non-remorseful jaw into another one of God’s precious warriors. Black poison pumps faster through the cracks in my cold hard exterior trying to get out and pour all over the floors of Herot. Blood, warm, red blood that now accessorizes my vicious mouth, sends the black stallions in my vessels racing; pumping harder the black poison. I cannot wait till I can feast on another set of God’s powerful warriors.

It is a great blessing from the Almighty, when he sends me a luscious feast ending my starvation. I can do without the noisy crowd of delusional pigs though. Snorers always bring me to the yard, what else is going to quite them. Nothing much has changed, Herot still has the squeak in that big, ole door letting everyone know that I am here. It is just a little to obnoxious for me, along with the heavenly rays that peer through day and night. Pop, I have truly missed this feeling of delight at the warmth I feel as I surprisingly attack the first squealing pig in my presence. Every time I feast, I feel my victim’s heart stop, and his good soul sores away aimlessly into his fate all around me; I am invincible. Ow, this warrior is not supposed to give me such a fight, I am not amused. What was in his slop this morning, muscles a la punch? My jaws cannot penetrate this one, and the metal is making my teeth chill and leave a disgusting dirty after taste. Pop, my left defense, my shoulder, I watch it in slow motion. Not where it should be, I watch as my limp explodes the floor with a big thud. I take it as a sign of God banging the gavel that ends my last supper. The stallions are dying, the poison is slowing, and I cannot breathe.