He stirred his bowl of Honey Berry Crunch as he watched the evening’s fireworks. He liked the way the colors sparkled across the city. The smell of the gunpowder made him feel strong; reminded him how powerful he was.
The intercom spoke.
<<Mr. Allen from the Transit Authority is here to see you, Mr. Mayor.>>
“Gwrraaarrrrr arrg.” He grumbled at it.
<<Of course, Sir.>>
The Mayor set his bowl down on his desk and picked up his gun. A man in the forests of Jankok gave him the gun years before. It was a normal hunting rifle but he was drawn to the sheen and glisten of the barrel. The smell of the gunpowder made him erect.
As he stumbled upright toward the door, he drug the gun across the floor. It scraped against the tile as he burst out of his office.
“Grrawwwr grawwrrr” he growled, raising the gun toward Mr. Allen.
“Please! No!” Mr. Allen shouted as he slid out of the lobby chair and onto his knees. “It wasn’t my fault!”
“GWRAGGGLR!” The Mayor roared as he took steady aim.
“I swear! The budget has been so tight. We can’t afford to increase the bus OR train activity during rush hour. It’s just not possible.”
A horrible stench of shit wafted up from Mr. Allen and the Mayor shook his head in disgust.
“It’s a logistical Nigh–”
“Grraggrr Gwaaaaargr!” The Mayor barked as he pulled the trigger and put four rounds into Mr. Allen’s belly.
The Mayor leaned down. The dying politician could feel the warm breath of the Mayor as he pressed his nose against forehead.
Mr. Allen wimpered, “please.”
In one swift motion the Mayor bit off the face of the Politian and swallowed it.
He turned toward his secretary, “Grwwrrrrr?” he asked.
“Of course, Sir. I’ll bring you your salmon, right away.”