As the blood dripped slowly off the carving knife, he looked down at the ragged wound in her soft belly and licked the red off his fingers. He put the knife down and picked up the box of lion matches. Carefully cupping the flame he’d drawn from the wooden matchstick, he lit the thick, white candle jammed in her left eye socket….
“Now that’s what I call a birthday cake!”
Happy happy happy day of birthing Ramona….may the blood continue to flow!