Son of the Slob

by Aron Beauregard

Trying to get rid of the bugs was pointless. The real solution would have been getting rid of the people.

the more I saw the veil pulled back on the rest of the ‘good people’ of the world, the less credibility my heart wanted to lend.

As the disabled veteran took his final breath, he thought of Vera and all they’d been through.

Unexpectedly heart wrenching for a splatterpunk kind of book

I watched on, frozen in repulsion, as the rat maneuvered its massive frame and sunk its fangs deep into Daniel’s dead eyeball. As a translucent fluid mixed with the red and gushed down his cheek, I couldn’t help but remember what those eyes had meant to me. The eyes that had only been for me. The eyes of a man that cared more about me than anyone, even himself. The eyes of a man that meant the world to me. The eyes of my only true love.