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Rethan wrote:

"Give me something red and raw," It said. "Something squirming." I took a cat and its litter, left them mewling in the attic as night closed. I heard a sound that might have been cracking ice and the smothering of something small. That night It whispered again.
"Give me something fertile," It said. "Something brooding." A mess not quite like tar was in my ear when I awoke. With wine and empty promises I lured my neighbour to my bed. I did not claim her, she was not mine to claim. Something that might be ink stained the sheets where she had slept. My stomach roiled when I awoke with a nausea that was not mine. Again and again, with colleague and lover and family I satiated It and in return I dreamt in monochrome and silence of something beautiful.
For It was hungry, and I gave It much to eat. For It was thirsty, and I gave It dreams to drink. For I was but a stranger, and It invited me in.
When It had swallowed all my world It whispered me again, saying:
"Take of me something rich and wanting." So I did fill my mouth with It, with tar and ink and glass. And when I had my fill I took a knife to my own self, and I did fill my mouth with all the skin and blood and bone I bore.
"Give me something red and raw," It said. "Something of yours." I ate and ate and ate until only It remained of me.

Hey where can I get one of these convenient people disposal things...asking for a friend

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