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MLO hated everything. He hated how his house looked, he hated how the nature was formed, he hated how civilization only got in his way, and he hated how his skin felt on him the most.
It wasn't that he hated his skin, he did like how he looked, but the feeling of the fleshy surface covering his muscles felt revolting to him, his veins painfully pushed up against the wrapping of his skin, the pale weak wrapping that surrounded his body, his spiritual cage. He wanted to peel it back and free himself, more than anything.
MLO walked out of the house, looking across the dead neighborhood, a gray little town. Posters of missing cats filled the streets, memories of their flaying MLO could only replay in his mind in enjoyment as he saw the papers, it was never enough. MLO liked it, though, his lifestyle. The problem was his life.
He eventually got to the place, an abandoned butcher's store, thats where he'd do it. He walked in, and shut the door, using a key-based lock on the door to keep it closed as he approached the cutting table. He swung his backpack over across the "kitchen" floor, screeches and hissing spewing out of the bag as the impact hit.
He came over to his bag and pulled the zipper, opening the large container. The moving, breathing pulses of the dozen creatures inside, the small furry beings, it made MLO sick.
Not the idea of what he was going to do to these beings, but the idea of their existence was what made him feel distorted, demented, like as if it was unimaginable that something else could feel like he could. He stuck his hand in, and grabbed one, a runt of it's litter.
He stared at the being, trying to understand it's species, but all the creatures looked so unrecognizable to him, he could barely make out what it was. Well, it didnt matter, he slowly started to tighten his grip around the being, its mews turning into painful hisses and soon sharp screeches as its body began to compress onto itself from the grip, until a loud snapping noise was heard from the creature. MLO couldn't tell if the being made the sound with its mouth or if it was something else, in reality.
MLO tossed the carcass to the corner of the room, and gently reached into the current of beings and grabbed another one. This one, he gently laid onto the cutting board, allowing it to rest there so tiredly. MLO knew he'd get too greedy if he didn't limit himself now, so he lit a match, and looked down at the bag as he flicked the match into the waves of moving, living entities, watching the mass melt into some sort of red mess. MLO could only ponder where that red came from, maybe the fire.
MLO came back to the cutting board, taking the clever and gently tracing it across his arm, from the inside of his elbow down to his veins, watching in attraction as the blood slowly piled up along his cut, and slowly dripped down his arm. It was gorgeous, almost made him want to stop this. almost.
He took the clever and made the first shallow incision, across the paw of the being. He used the clever to create another incision splitting the paw skin in half, and peeled the halfs roughly off, chunks of flesh sticking to the skin.
He repeated this process four times, before heading towards the head. He made sure to do it swiftly, he already had his fun with the paws, he wasn't a cruel bastard. He positioned his clever above its neck, and swung down, splitting the fleshy ball from the rest of the body. He placed the clever down and placed the head in his mouth, chewing the candy as he thought about the moment.
It wasn't too bad, the crunchy thing, honestly. When he finished, MLO picked the clever back up and turned it over, laying the flat metal part against the being's main body area, quickly using his other hand to shove it into the body, crushing the insides as it threatened to push out of the thing's body, although it didn't.
That was all he needed for the sacrifice, he was good to leave, now. He walked back home, looking at all the flowers and the wonderous moon as he did, he didnt want to miss a bit this night, his best night, he wanted to see it all, and tomorrow.
As he got to his house, he tugged at the door, but it refused to open. He knew it must've been his, despite the things sleeping in his bed, and the cars he didnt own at his house, so he walked over to his window. The inside of his house looked different, but he knew it was his. He swung once at the window, causing a crack. He swung again, breaking some skin on his fist and causing the bloody crack to spread some more.
On his 30th swing, his hand was but a bloody mess, but the glas finally shattered, allowing MLO to crawl through, the glass cutting his delicate pale wrapping. He walked from the living room, into the bedroom, and to the pistol. He grabbed the gun and aimed it carefully, under his chin directed to his brain, he knew it was what his lords wanted, so he had no trouble pulling. The outcome was probable.