Part 1

Selena walked behind the three men in neatly tailored suits, seemingly having left their folks and other sister upstairs. Whether or not they were involved with whatever was going on here didn't much matter to me at the time. The blonde still looked as happy and carefree as she did before, as though she was about to pet her new fluffy puppy, rather than touching base with her prisoners.

"Let us go you som'bitches!" Burt said as soon as they came into view, "y'all ain't got no right to keep us like this!"

"And what rights have you?" the self-important-looking guy, with the slicked back, dark hair and glasses asked.

"What's 'at s'pose to mean?" Earl snapped.

The taller of the four, with spiky, brown hair strolled casually up to the bars, raising his head to be able to continue looking down his upturned, pointy nose at us.

"You are the dregs of this world, buddy-boy; all three of you…"

"Hey!" I barked, having nothing else prepared to add to that.

"All you do is drink, and fuck, and eat, and fuck, pop your little pills, and fuck, spilling your seed wherever it may land, spreading your stain every time you procreate. You are…"

'You're the fuckin' dregs, you damn, uppity douche-balloon!' I thought, 'That's what I shoulda said. Yeah, you pompous little, ratty-haired prick, in your fancy suit and stuck-up pointy nose!' Ugh, I couldn't stand these sorts of holier-than-thou assholes who think they rule the damn world. Sure, they got all the money and business sense, and all that shit, but what else? Bet they wouldn't know how to change a transmission on their high-priced, panty-dropping cars.

Speaking of which, was it wrong that I still kept eyeballing the blonde? Sure, she had most definitely been leading me on to get me into her house and all, but man she looked good in that painted-on dress. Damnit! What the hell was I thinking!? What're you gonna do? Ask her out for a cheap ass beer when she gets done eating your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti!? Wait…did I hear that right!?

"You're gonna what?" Earl asked, whimpering slightly as he backed away from the bars.

"We…are…going…to…dine…on…you..," snooty looking, slick back hair guy said, mockingly slow.

"Y'all some sick mother fuckers…" Burt said, shaking his head in apparent denial.

Selena was giggling, bouncing up and down on her heels, and clapping her hands like a lunatic. Safe to say, I found her a good deal less attractive by that point.

When the other guy walked down the stairs, flexing each likely high-priced step under his massive feet, I understood that they were not just toying with us, or playing some sick joke to get their rocks off and whatnot. He looked like about four hundred pounds of rock-solid muscle, wearing a wife-beater and a leather apron that was covered in brown and red stains, likely from many previous dinner specials. He didn't have a lick of hair on his head, nor did he remotely resemble any of the other residents of the house.

I figured he was some kind of very special chef or something. Like the Gordon Ramsay for the upper-crusty cannibals of the country. 'This week on Cooking with the Rich and Shameless: Pier, the People Pickler, whips up a deluxe batch of redneck genitals to tease your palate. Stay tuned for the recipe for Country-fried Gonads on a bed of caviar and parsley.' Fuck me. We were screwed!

"Not all at once, of course," the spiky-haired guy said, "that would just be a waste, after all. So, who will be the first?"

"I want the cute one," Selena said, still lit up like a birthday girl.

It's not often that I don't want to be considered 'the cute one' to a pretty girl, but I was most certainly hoping she was more into skinny or stocky guys at this point.

"I want Sax-y boy! He looks delicious!" she said, bouncing in place again.

While I attempted to take the sentiment and flattery in a more positive way than her having a craving for what she may consider the more adorable set of kidneys between the three of her captives, I wasn't exactly giddy about it.

"Oh, do shut up, 'Lina," the slick hair and glasses guy said, "you are not the only vote you know?"

"I want the big guy," the other, more slender guy with black hair added, "I like a bit of gristle on my meat."

"I could care less," spiky-haired guy said, "but we do need to make a decision soon. I'm positively famished!"

"In that case, I will add my vote for 'the cute one' as well," slick said, mimicking his sister's exaggerated air quotes from earlier.

'Well shit', I thought, letting out a heavy sigh. While I held onto the hope that the stone-faced beast of a chef may get a vote, it would only tie things up at best. Of course, given the way the quartet of spoiled rich kids regarded him, he seemed nothing more than hired help to them. Plus, he hadn't spoken even the first word since strolling into the room.

"Yay!" Selena said, now clapping her hands in addition to the hopping.

"You two, up against the back," the barbarian chef said in a disturbingly gentle and intelligent-sounding voice, holding out a hand to receive the key the snooty, slick-back hair guy held out.

I could almost feel my sternum crack from how violently my heart was beating as he slid the key into the padlock holding the gate shut. As he turned it, the immense speed at which the blood was coursing through my veins made my head so loopy, I thought I may either pass out or pass on. I almost hoped for the second option more than the first, as I had no idea if I would be laid to rest before being stuffed like a damn Thanksgiving turkey.

While Earl and Burt were doing what they were told to; pressing their backs firmly against the bars at the rear of the cage, I suddenly found my mind no longer attempting to drift away. The scene played out before me in almost slow motion, with the padlock freed and the gates latch screeching to one side in an agonizing wail that I would likely imitate within the hour.

I couldn't even hope to break my attention from the immense man whose head sparkled in the soft illumination. When he reached one gargantuan hand through the opening, snatching me by the collar and aggressively yanking me several steps closer to my being flambeed, he outstretched his other wide mitt to close the gate back shut; something that did not quite go as effectively as he had planned.

With some sort of primal scream, seemingly beginning in the pit of Burt's gut before launching from his mouth like it was shot from a cannon, I felt my body careening back to the hard ground as he attempted to tackle the beefy chef. While his attack was about as effective as if he were swatting a brick wall with a Wiffle bat, it did cause the hulking man to take a few steps back, allowing his far more slender sibling to slide free of the cage as well.

While I fell to the ground, I took great satisfaction in seeing Earl's tightly balled fist connecting with the pointy nose of the spiky-haired guy, effectively redirecting its angle with a splash of sticky blood. Burt was still waging a war on the midsection of the beast in the leather apron, causing little more than earning some laughter from his target.

When the chef snatched up the fist that couldn't even inspire him to wince a little, slamming Burt against the gate, he finally succeeded in closing it back shut. In the meantime, a screeching Selena was running for the steps, while the quite impressive fighting skills of the skinny guy had already rendered two of the brothers unconscious.

While he kicked at the gut of the slick-haired guy on the floor, the more slender of the brothers landed a hit to his face, almost causing him to lose his footing and join the duo on the ground. Finally pushing myself back to my feet, I interjected before he could land another punch, kicking the well-dressed man in the nuts so hard I felt the concussion in my ankle.

Though the anguished and horror-struck look on his face was almost laughable, I wasted no time in launching my steel toe boot into his boys for a second and third time, not yielding my attack on his chances for potential offspring until I felt them crunch, dropping him next to his brothers. While the other two were down for the count, I went ahead and similarly crushed their cajones, just to lessen the possibility of their family tree growing any more branches.

When Burt, seemingly inspired by my actions, began thrusting his own feet against the crotch of the guy who now held him against the gate, two feet from the floor in his outstretched hand, it barely caused the people pickler to break a sweat. Earl and I both were beating, kicking, and punching at the giant until I heard more feet stomping down the steps behind us. I turned around just in time to push the skinny guy from the path of the bullet the older man fired at us.

Selina was standing right behind him, holding his shoulder like she needed him to protect her from the monster in her closet. Over and over again he discharged his weapon, taking no care in the fact that half of his bullets were drilling into his likely high-priced cook. Again, the large man barely reacted to the multiple wounds leaking fluids from his back, tossing Burt to one side like a ragdoll, before turning to face the old man with the rifle still trained on him.

"Do you mind?" he said in that soft and somewhat aggravated voice, in what sounded to be an upper-class English accent.

"Oh," the old gent said, wearing a sheepish and slightly ashamed grin, "my apologies."

With this slight moment of distraction, Earl and I slid to his brother, before we shuffled off to the right side of the room, desperately in search of some sort of exit. While we did find a door; one that was unlocked for that matter, what we found within the contents of that room was no salvation, but a possible nail in our respective coffins, with a shovel to boot.

Though the tools this area of the house held were not quite so literal in the six feet under analogy, the razor-sharp-looking blades of the extravagantly designed 'utensils' were very likely what the big guy planned to use to prepare the feast for his employers. The hospital-style bed in the center of the room, layered in the same plastic that lined the floor and walls was the only thing blocking our path to the selection of potential weaponry.

Without a word; though I had plenty come to mind as we glared, slack-jawed at the rack of knives and power tools, we gave a glance at one another before sprinting around the bed, towards the display, each of us claiming a weapon for the inevitable showdown.

While I felt barely confident in my choice of a long, serrated knife, almost modeled more like a wakizashi than kitchen flare, that brief moment of self-assurance came to a quick close when the beast in the apron came strolling through the open door, having claimed the rifle from his boss. I barely avoided that first shot, feeling it graze my shoulder as I leaped to one side; something that appeared so much more effective in the average action movie.

The next one drilled into the side of the rack of blades, sending many of them to the plastic-lined floor. I must have come off like a poorly trained dancer as I swirled around on the ground, attempting to avoid certain death. While my would-be executioner seemed so focused on me at the time, he had seemingly missed the surprisingly stealthy maneuvering of the stockier of the Hodge brothers.

For the first time, the immense man looked shocked when Burt slammed the wide butcher's knife into the meat of his upper thigh, breaking that stone-faced expression he had worn since we met. When he kicked back his attacker with his less mutilated leg, he yanked the blade free, dropping the rifle to the floor.

Burt slid back, reaching out for the heavy meat tenderizing hammer his brother attempted to hand to him, when the big guy closed in quickly, bringing the butcher's knife down on the arm his target held out, separating it halfway down his forearm. Earl screamed out harder than his sibling was able to, as he just glared wide-eyed and horrified at the stump that used to have a wrist and hand attached.

As the chef swiped down for a second time, I pushed forward, holding my blade out like a lance, piercing it through his wrist before he could dig a ditch into Burt's neck. He just stopped in place, stared down at his oozing limb, and up to face me, tilting his head like a curious mutt. When he began to move towards me, not so much as pulling the knife from his arm, Earl let out another scream; one almost as primal as the warcry his brother had echoed back in the cage.

When he had traded in the meat tenderizer for an especially wide, dual-edged blade, I can't say, as I was a deer in headlights before the almost reddening eyes of the hell-bent chef, but when he forced it into the groin of the big guy, it was finally clear that it was indeed a man we faced after all. The shriek that howled from the mouth of the massive individual, as he let the blade fall from his grasp, was almost enough to make my ears bleed; a shrill squeal that grew louder and more visceral with every tear of Earl's dagger.

Even with the large arms; one of which still had a knife through it, swinging erratically at the skinny fella, he had little problem avoiding them as he was quite the squirrely one. There was nothing but grizzled meat and gnarled tissue left in the wake of his attacks, and when Burt rejoined the fight, slicing at the gut of the big guy with that same butcher's knife that took his hand, I snatched up the biggest damn blade I could find.

All three of us swung our weapons at the beast, hacking ditches and carving chunks from him until there was simply not enough blood left in the man to allow him to remain conscious. When he dropped to the floor, I almost felt more like a lumberjack, having toppled an enormous tree rather than some poor bastard who had to resort to such madness to survive.

Once we were certain he would not be getting back up, I pulled off my belt to attempt to slow the fluids oozing from Burt. Earl wrapped his severed hand with some plastic he cut from the lining of the floor, hopeful to be able to preserve it for the time being, before we helped his brother back to his feet. As we hesitantly approached the door, I picked up the rifle, inspected it to see that only two bullets remained, and I took the forefront on our hopeful escape.

I saw no trace of anyone when we got back to the room with the cage, except for the three buckled men still sleeping it off. I strangely wasn't surprised to see that their folks or sisters hadn't attempted to pull them to safety. Just for good measure, I gave a few complimentary kicks to their pills as we passed by, to be sure they weren't simply faking it to throw us off, not to mention, it was just sort of satisfying by that point.

Even Burt let out an exhausted chuckle as I planted my steel toe against the third set of well-tenderized meatballs, but I had to be sure, right?

When I placed my foot on the first step, I tried to keep it as light as possible. While I was sure a wealthy family of carnivores would not tolerate a squeaky floor in their fancy mansion, I wasn't about to take any chances. With each hesitant step, I tried to keep my shivering limbs from significantly altering the course of any of the two bullets I may have to spend on these sick bastards, but when I peered through the doorway at the top of the stairs to see nobody around, I just knew they were planning something.

I suggested taking a look around to see if we could locate some ice to put Burt's hand on, but he shook his head dismissively.

"Let's just get the hell outta here."

I gave a glance to Earl, who nodded his approval, and we made our way to the front door, keeping an eye on our backs. As soon as I opened the door, feeling almost exhilarated from the cool wind blowing in from the outside world, the sound of a hammer being pulled back on another firearm caused that brief moment of joy to sink into the pit of my stomach.

"Turn around," the voice from behind said.

I turned to see the older guy holding what looked to be some sort of flintlock pistol outstretched, wearing a shit-eating grin. His wife and daughters stood a ways behind him, with him attempting to come off like the noble hero in this insane scenario.

"Not only can we not allow you to leave; not after what you have done to my children, but we are still hungry, you see?"

"Your chef is dead, prick," I replied.

"While Jeffrey is, well, was, quite the talented professional, it's not as though I have never had to prepare my own food. Now, if you will kindly close the door, drop the…"

Whether it was the fact that I was too damn tired to care anymore, or just that I had a feeling he was fully prepared to drone on for a while to make us feel as small and worthless as possible, I can't honestly say. Whatever it was, the shocked look on his face when I quickly raised the rifle, sending one of my two remaining bullets directly between his eyes, was almost as satisfying as the sound of his son's cajones being pummeled.

Selena, her sister, and her mother all screamed and ran out of the room before I could decide who would get the last bullet, so we wasted no time in quickening our escape through the open door. I helped Earl load his brother into the truck, before heading for the car I still had to get to the shop, though that was the least of my concerns at the time.

As I backed up to see the taillights of the green truck speeding away, I threw the Mercedes into drive and pushed the pedal to the floor, slamming the brakes seconds later when the pretty blonde in the painted-on dress came running out, about ten feet in front of me.

"Don't go!" she called out with tears streaming down her face, "please, just…"

I was so focused on her, or I suppose whether or not I should risk damage to the fancy car by slamming the front end against her, that I didn't even notice the tail lights speeding back toward me. When the bed of the truck collided with her slender frame, she dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Earl pulled back beside where I was parked with my foot still on the brake pedal.

"Burt said we should wait for ye, on account of yer gettin' lost before," he said with a laugh, "good thing we did, looks like."

When Selena slowly lifted herself back to her trembling legs, the large green truck sped forward again, this time leaving her in a state she was far less likely to come back from. I watched her body tumble and crunch under the wheels of the heavy four by four, before the brake lights lit up once more.

"Just foller me," Earl yelled, hanging out of the driver's side window, "gonna be gunnin' so, so try to keep up."

Giving one more look at the broken blonde to see her not so much as twitching anymore, my guide headed back up the baby-smooth, elongated driveway with me in tow. I made sure to swerve around what remained of the pretty girl who 'could just eat me up', and sped away from the home of the rich and cannibalistic.

I made sure to keep as close to the large truck as I could this time, focusing my mind more than I had ever been capable of before. While it did attempt to drift on occasion, especially given all of the new grotesque and messed up imagery this crazy night had shown me, I managed to swipe it to the side, like thumbing through applications on my dead phone.

While I had no idea where that was currently located, as it was no longer sitting on the passenger seat where I left it, it was the least of my concerns at the time. Against all odds, we had survived and that alone was enough to keep my eyes on the road, as well as the heavy vehicle guiding my path to freedom.

When we reached the nearest hospital, I placed a call to the police while the doctor took Burt back to see what they could do for him. All three of us would have some questions to answer after they checked out the mansion I directed them to, but they couldn't deny that the story we told matched the evidence. Unfortunately, the Mother, her three sons, and only living daughter had vacated the area by the time the cops got there, plus there was apparently no trace of the blonde either.

They found the old man and the beast of a chef, along with a large freezer filled with the remains of those not as fortunate as the Hodge boys and I. While I was informed about some of their findings, I could only be permitted so much information on the case, but they thought it unlikely I had anything further to worry about after all was said and done.

The doctors managed to save Burts arm, and I am so thankful for that, as is his brother. If it wasn't for those two, whatever was left of me would likely have been flushed down a fancy toilet by now, and I owe them so much for that. We still keep in touch, the three of us. The stocky guy still has a lot of physical therapy ahead of him, but he says it's a small price to pay, all things considered.

When I finally made it back to the garage, my dad was beside himself with worry. I'd never seen him like that before, so I honestly had no idea how to react. He was almost in tears after I told him what happened, while Dwayne listened on, shaking his head from side to side. Yeah, he made fun of me for getting so lost, as it turned out I was a good thirty miles in the opposite direction of where I needed to be, but I could tell he felt bad about it.

It wasn't his fault, of course. I have nobody to blame but myself and my wandering mind, as well as the insane family who wanted all of my tasty morsels for themselves. I've been trying to work on my attention deficit issues; even finally got my ass to a doctor. Turns out I was dead-on-balls accurate with my self-diagnosis, but I can't tell if the meds he put me on are helping just yet. I did manage to type all of this out though, so that's not for nothing.

It's been a little over six months since that batshit crazy night, and I truly thought it was over. Those first few weeks, I kept looking over my shoulder like a crackhead at the policeman's ball, but I got back into a stride after a while, barely even thinking about those sickos.

It wasn't until a few days back, while I was washing up before heading home for the night that I heard someone call from outside the garage door. I always get a bit pissed off when someone shows up when we're closing up for the night, but when I peeked out to see my dad already talking to the woman, I ducked back into the bathroom until I heard my dad tell them it would be a few days until we could get to whatever it was they wanted.

When I walked back out to see the blonde hair blowing in the wind as the fancy-looking woman climbed into the back of the pristine Escalade, I could barely force my legs to move. While my dad was giving me the rundown of the conversation; one involving what could be a high-paying job, I found myself unable to focus on his words.

My eyes and mind were glued to the woman who rolled down the window to give a friendly wave as the SUV pulled up parallel to the open door.

"See ya soon, Sax-y boy," Selena called out, blowing me a kiss before they pulled back out to the road and drove out of sight.

"I think she likes you, kid," my dad said with a chuckle.

"Yeah," I replied, just gazing at where the vehicle was parked only seconds before, "on a buttered roll with a side of french fries."

While it's very possible that it was just the other sister I hadn't paid much attention to, having dyed her hair to throw me off, I think that it really was Selena. If that's the case, I have no idea how she could've survived what the Hodge boys' truck did to her, but there ain't much money can't buy, I suppose; if you know where to look, of course.

Either way, I'm seriously considering getting the hell out of town. The cops assured me they were going to keep a close eye on the shop and the house, but they can't be with me every second. I called Earl to let him know what's up, so he and Burt are going to make themselves scarce for a bit.

Dad and I are going to be armed and on guard until this whole thing is resolved, but hey, maybe they do just need some work done on their fancy cars. Yeah, that's about as likely as Pier, the People Pickler making babies at this point, but they have got to know the police are onto them. Maybe they just wanted to swing by to make me wonder, you know? Just to keep me on edge and afraid.

Whatever the case; whether that visit was just to let me know that we didn't beat them, or that they still plan on having me over for dinner, I can most definitely say that my mind is far more focused than it used to be. Yes, that primary thought is that I quite literally escaped the frying pan, only to potentially belly-flop into the fire, but that's something, right?