[Mac the Janitor]

I looked around the cold, grey room. Dozens of Vykkers were seated in the stands surrounding the labratory. In the far corner, there were several angry Vykkers surrounding a tall, lanky intern screeching at him. Each were thrusting a blue ticket into his face angrily. I assumed they were betting on wether or not the creature would die during the operation.

The intern carried us down the stairs and into a hall north of the entrance. We passed dozens of vykkers screaming and screeching at each other about moolah, food and sports.

As we reached the hall, the screeching gradually got quieter. There was nothing in the hall except for some empty cages and a vykker laying against the wall with several glass bottles lying around him.

He told us to wait here. As if we had a choice.

The silence was driving me insane. I heard nothing but the echo of angry vykker voices coming from the large room. The only reason we could see anything was because of the small, weak flourescent light randomly flickering on and off, dangling above us.

I looked behind Bo and Ophelia onto another cart. There was a squatty, pink creature with an enormous head. It had no arms, no eyes. The only thing holding it up was its two little legs.

This must be a slog. I've heard stories about these. Aren't they usually extremely vicious?

The slog looked at me longingly. He whimpered and rolled onto his side. His chest was heaving up and down rather quickly.

I stared at him for a few seconds, preparing to read his mind.

"What did I do?" he thought. "Why do I deserve this?" He whimpered again and stared desperately into my eyes. "Please...save me..."

So even he knows what they're going to do to him.

I heard a muffled voice on a loudspeaker echo into the halls. Two interns rushed in, jumping with excitement, and pulled the slog's cart out into the public labratory. As they exited the hall, hundreds of yells and hoots came from the lab.

As time went on, I heard everything they did to him. It was the most horrible thing I've heard. The saws buzzing, the vykkers laughing, hooting and catcalling...and the poor slog howling and moaning in pain.

About an hour later, the two interns rolled the cart back into the hall. As the cart rattled past us, I gave one last look at the slog. He had a large opening in his chest and all of his bloody intestines were poured out onto the cart in a large pile, still connected to his body, still functioning, still dying. He coughed up a large puddle of blood. He howled in pain.

No matter how hard I try, I can't forget the horrible scene.

My stomach wrenched with sickness. Heaven knows what they're going to do to me.