By: Heather Milone Caplan

In a house on a hill in a tiny little town, lives a luxurious woman with mangled black hair and a taste for the divine.  She wants to eat your face.

She appears to live alone, although men seem to come and go, like bees to their hive, they return to their queen who would eat them if she required sustenance.  

She is hungry and soiled and needs to feed on something young and tasty.  She sends out her call and receives her package. She licks her lips.

“Pizza delivery,” bellows the voice of a scrumptious and unsuspecting meal.

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