My feet drag me into this hell of a place for the second time in the past four hours.  The name is Sam, FBI agent Sam.  I never left; I watched the ongoing stillness of the flashing sign placed eleven feet above me.  “Moe’s Café”, the “e” never lit up.  Only certain light bulbs in that letter had some life, and the more I look at it the more I see an outline of a carcass—it must be my eyes mistaking me.  I was on a case.  Stay undercover, catch Moe, and throw him in jail.  Three steps, it’s my first mission.  I cannot let my boss down.  I came to investigate.  Pictures of nude women hung to the walls like they do in real life, only to come home to empty hearts.  There was a glitch in the jukebox that only allowed it to play “Eleanor Rigby” by The Beatles. 

“all the lonely people,
where do they all come from?”
They rang louder now, more than ever before; a choir of sirens calling me in for the kill.  I needed answers, and I needed them before someone else goes missing.  Legend has it that whenever a young lady walks into Moe’s Café, they never come out.  I am 25 years old.  Well, I was in the café, the legend is half true so far.  The one thing I really wish was present was either an “employees only” sign or a “do not trespass” sign because when I walked into the kitchen, I saw images that will stay with me for the rest of my career. 

“Slaughter house”

These were the only two words I whispered under my breath.  Bodies dangled from the ceiling, and when I looked into their faces I saw my reflection.  Their hands caressed the floor with oozing amounts of carelessness as rivers of blood dripped down their arms coming out of their abdominal area.  Each and every one of them dressed in the same clothes.  The standard attire was an employee t-shirt that had a logo in the corner for Moe’s Café.   It’s all here, all the clues, all the evidence.  This is why the agency wants him locked away bad enough to call us.  I collected fingerprints off of their droopy faces and hair samples from each victim with my nose half closed.  Dead bodies smell terrible.  Then I looked down.  The floor was covered in brown; the dry blood from Suzy, Samantha, Stephanie; the list was continuous.  I look back up and focus my attention on a set of double doors with marine circular windows that steamed up.  Something was sizzling on the stove over the subtle sound of heavy breathing and drooling.  He’s right behind those doors.  My adrenalin levels increased to unhealthy heights as I pulled out my pistol from my belt ready to have him sizzled on that stove myself and sent to jail for three eternities.  I’d have to admit at some point, I was absolutely frightened at this point in the game.  Beads of sizzling sweat ran down my frozen body to grease up my arm that was ready to pull the trigger. 

“On the count of three, one, two…”

My foot came in early and right before I could say three kicked the door open with all the energy my anxiety provided.  All that I found was a large slab of flesh burning away to the rhythm of chaos and no master mind to be found.