In the Waiting Room

Kevin had arrived a little earlier to the doctor’s appointment. He had been waiting for some time now, when two other patients walked into the waiting room. They seemed to know each other beforehand, as they were engaged in a vivid conversation. Kevin observed that one of them was a short, portly gentleman, while the other was taller and rather medium-sized.

“Paul, I’m telling you, this is the best way to feed. Trust me; I’ve been doing it for a long time,” said the taller man, arousing Kevin’s curiosity.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Marcus… It’s just that this isn’t really my thing…” the shorter man replied.

The two men sat down near Kevin, continuing their odd discussion. However, Kevin was too polite to eavesdrop (at least not on purpose), and, not being much of a conversationalist, he tried to focus his attention on something else. He saw today’s newspaper on a table a few feet in front of him. He hadn’t had a chance to read it this morning, so he picked it up, curious to see what has been going on with the murders that kept happening lately. The newspaper didn’t say much – there wasn’t much to say, the killings were quite mysterious. The front page article reported another murder that had happened just last night. The body was found like the others – hanging from a tree, upside-down, his feet tied to a branch, his head close to the ground, and completely drained of blood.

That sent chills down Kevin’s spine (which wasn’t very strong to begin with). The thought that the killer was still at large, that he could be anyone… anywhere…

What interrupted Kevin’s train of thought were two words: “blood” and “fur.” The first word was said by Marcus, the tall man, while the second was uttered by Paul, the chubby one.

It was then when Kevin started to notice a few strange details about the two talkers. Marcus had an elongated, triangular face, with an aquiline nose. He had a very pale complexion, which contrasted greatly with his raven-black hair that was combed neatly to his right side. He had a sort of strange way of waiving his hands when he spoke, like he was directing an orchestra. Or, at least that’s what it seemed to Kevin, who fancied himself something of a connoisseur in classical music. Marcus’ clothes were quite fashionable, without being too extravagant. There was an air of classical distinction about him, the sort of distinction one usually encounters in older gentlemen of good education, which was bizarre, because Marcus did not look a day over forty.

Paul, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. He had a gruff-looking brownish mane on his head, which continued uninterrupted on his face, thus giving him the funny look of a fat lion. However, there was nothing really funny about Paul. He seemed a very tough, no-nonsense blue collar worker kind of person, which kind of scared Kevin, who usually didn’t have much contact with the blue collar class. His clothes looked like they were a couple of sizes too small, almost to the point of bursting, with his big body trying to get out of them through every orifice. The kind of untamed hair found on his head and face seem to grow also on his body, becoming more evident on his hands and neck.

As Kevin began to notice all these details, he also started to pay more attention to the two strangers’ conversation. At first, he did not really understand what they were talking about, as what Marcus and Paul were saying did not appear to make any sense. Marcus seemed to have an expertise on something about food? Feeding? While Paul did not share his knowledge, he seemed opened to suggestions, albeit a bit cautious. Kevin tried to listen more carefully, and he slowly moved closer to the two men. He heard Marcus give a complete description of the murder he committed last night. How he knocked the man unconscious, then hanged him from his feet. To his horror, Kevin heard how Marcus lied back under the body, his head beneath the corpse’s head, and then sliced open the man’s neck and let the blood flow into his mouth. The poor trembling Kevin also heard Paul complaining how he could not imagine himself doing that, because it would ruin his fur.

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