The Ravenous Workaholic

Alright, so I was flipping through the dictionary and decided to randomly choose two not so common words as stated in the title of this story. So here goes....


Monday, Monday, Monday, some just despise Monday. They say dreadful torture begins, where great pleasure ends, rainbows turn into ebony. It may sound like a heavy accusation towards Monday from the perspective of a positive minded person but extremely normal to people like him. Working could be practically said to be his life. As his eyelids open in the A.M., he freshens up and off to work he goes. Hops into his wrecked vehicle and speeds up to 40 miles per hour. When he reaches his destination, he shoots off to his office or shall I say the postmortem department. He goes by the name of Tom Carter, the one and only who's in charge of the dead bodies. Everyday, he cuts them open to find out the cause of their death. At first, it was a terrible task but as time went by, he felt a wicked kind of pleasure to it. The smell of it satisfies him. Without another being's knowledge, he would take some of the organs and pack them home. He likes them being not so fresh and pathogens lying around. As soon as he reaches his filthy home, a place where no one would possible want to enter, vigorously he starts enjoying his meal. Sometimes he fries them but most of the time, he prefers them boiled.



To be continued...



Written by,
Juria Hartmans