Pigs to Pork people to death

November 13, 2010
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“Butchers they kill pigs, pigs and cows and, and, and PEOPLE!” He cackled. Though no one cared he happened to be the town lunatic but the seven year old passing by on her way to the hospital took notice.
I tugged on mommies arm hoping she would notice.
“What dear?” she replied casually.
“What is he saying? He’s creepy.” I ventured to say.
“Don’t worry he’s not right in the head. “ Mommy continued walking and bent her back to the billowing wind. I followed obediently though still troubled with the old man. As we arrived at the hospital the receptionist assigned us to Dr Butcher, room 13. But when we started on our way the myriad hallways dark and dimly lit intimidated us so we almost clawed our way back to the front desk. But to my mother the thought of my lung cancer pushed her on. She squared her shoulders like a soldier going to war and crept her way towards the elevator. Though only a mere 20 feet away it felt like 20 miles and, as if a monster lurked behind every shadow. And it almost did a mouse the size of King Kong jumped out of the plant next to the elevator. We pressed the up button and waited anxiously for the elevator to arrive. When it did arrive the doors opened with a screech not unlike nails on a chalkboard. But when we read the sheet it said Dr. butcher worked on the 5th floor. But the elevator to our dismay stopped on the 3rd floor and picked up some more inmates of the hospital. I and mom were afraid to look and we happened to be right one had one arm and no legs the other had lice ridden tresses hanging limply from her yellowed scalp. However they didn’t get the hint and spoke downtrodden about the hospital and how people going to Dr. Butcher had been dying strangely. My mind snapped back to the old man and my teeth started chattering and my knuckles turned white from gripping the rail. When we got off the first thing we noticed was under a peeling 13 sticker the numbers 666 showed through. We walked into the waiting room and found an eight year old crying next to her mother I overheard their conversation.
“Why did she die mommy she had a 1 to 100 chance of living?” The child questioned
“The doctor came out with fresh blood on his hands odd since she had no way to bleed.” She murmured
“She died of kidney failure right mommy?” the child asked.
“Right Honey.” She replied.
ThAt only added to my fright about Dr. Butcher but when I got called in my mother wanted to go in with me but the mindless lady said he only sees patients alone. Mother only let go because I got into a fit of hacking and coughing. As I headed down the hall the lady left me in front of a door labeled cancer. I heard water but it did not landing in the right spot it sounded like it ran off something before it went down the drain but summoning up my courage I knocked on the door waited a couple seconds till the water shut off and went in. Dr. Butcher was wiping off his hands and smiled warmly at me he winked and told me. “Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat. Now why don’t you tell me what you’re here for?”
“Lung cancer.” I hesitated to say.
“Oh, now that’s serious,” He replied with a straight face. “I’ll just go get my tools there soaking in disinfectant right now.” He stalked off and returned holding a tray off tools but when he set it down I noticed a large knife on it Dr. Butcher smiled maliciously and lifted the knife off the tray. With the casual air of an experienced hand he strode towards me the smirk of triumph never leaving his twisted face.

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