Taste testing

The diminutive apartment in Tenement Block C was dark save for the light coming from the small, box TV. Laz’s stiff body remained on the futon where the skeleton man had left him hours ago. His soiled sweatpants were filled with shit and piss that his body had expelled shortly after his death. The second blow delivered by the skeleton man that day had cracked the ribs on the right side of Laz’s body and punctured his lung. His lungs had slowly filled with blood before they collapsed in on themselves and sent blood shooting out of his mouth and down the front of his white t-shirt. 

The stillness in the apartment had enticed his unseen roommates out into the open. Cockroaches climbed over his body and sampled the smorgasbord of dried blood on the front of his t-shirt. A small family of ugly rats had emerged from a hole in the wall and were now dining on Laz’s toes. Having gnawed through his socks they hungrily stripped the skin from his toes and chewed on the spoiled meat. A small bluebird sat perched on Laz’s head and drove it’s beak into his eye, plucking it out of the socket, and drinking the nectar of the pierced eyeball. As the dangling eyeball dripped retinal fluid it hung from a series of muscles that looked like a slimy worm. The bird instinctively directed its attention to the worm-like muscle and snatched at it with its beak. Severing the connection, the bird tilted its head upwards and caught the gory mess in its mouth, swallowing the muscle and the deflated eyeball.