J. Wilson, 1998
The hors d’oeuvres approached, borne by a waiter in a white apron. Joanne’s mandibles clattered and clacked in anticipation, while Janice nattered on about her daughter’s debut.
“I just don’t understand how they could have said that about the silk in her cocoon,” she said crossly, sipping her latte.
Joanne did not reply, instead neatly parting the defleshed skull of the small primate, and delicately lapping at the redwarm brains within.
“Delicious,” she said, to which Janice replied, winking, “And low in fat!”