I heard munching and crunching and screaming and gargling. It came from next door, at three in the morning. I was suffering from insomnia. I padded down the hall and out my apartment door. Facing Room 666, I knocked.
Munch, munch, crunch was the response. I tried the knob. It turned. Slowly, I opened the door and walked into the dark living room of my neighbor.
Littered on the floor I saw what seemed to be a myriad of plates, bowls, china, and eating utensils. There were also sticky scraps of food on the floor, or so I thought as I accidently stepped on them.
He, my neighbor, continued to munch and eat away. He was a fat man, a burly man, a bald man. I saw him turn his head toward me, his eyes gleaming red. In his bleeding mouth, an arm?
“Hi,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Gluttony,” he purred, and crawled towards me, his teeth glowing crimson red.
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