~The Cannibal~

As some of you may know, I've become a bit of a gym rat in the last few years of my life (although you probably couldn't tell from my squishy body structure). I've been a member of Pinnacle gym for the last couple years, its a great place with good people in charge if you're looking for a place. F maximus and their legion of minions in dew rags and shirts cut up so much that they no longer serve any purpose. Anyhow, my fellow members are awesome, although no matter where you go there are a few bad seeds. Today I'd like to tell you about one of the creepiest individuals I've come in contact with, those of us who know him simply refer to him as "The Cannibal". (He actually has a name, but if you say it three times in a dark room he appears and eats you) The cannibal has been coming in for a while now, though I'm convinced its not to work out, he is hunting..... Imagine this, a man of small stature, maybe 5'5", 120 lbs. A very slender frame with dark hair and pale skin draped over his bones, almost sickly looking like Dennis Quaid when he played Doc Holiday. (its extra creepy when he has pulled an all nighter eating victims and hasn't shaved) A man reminiscent of Mr. Beans "mini me". The first thing that startled me about McCreeperton was the fact that 90% of the time he sits at a machine, he's just gazing at you, nay, through you, imagining what your liver would taste like with a blood gravy drizzled across it. Once I realized he was staring, being the man I am, I stared back! It chilled my bones. He broke his feasting glare finally. "Hmpff, I showed him" I thought to myself, only to find his death gaze fixed upon me in a ricochet action through the many mirrors hung on the wall. I was to scared at this point to test him in another battle of wills. Time went on and more Erie things were noticed about him, such as his use of the gym towells. I know he's not picking up a clean one, he's taking them out of the dirty basket, has to be, because he'll sit in the corner twisting it, sucking and chewing on it as if it were a delicious banana laffy taffy, reaping all of the sweat and skin cells out of it, longing for the day he can make a stew out of human stock and basil. Those of us who fear him know not to turn our backs on him because at any second he could hit us from behind with the chloroform and we could wake up in his dungeon missing our organs, only kept alive by the incredible machinery he has created, technology hospitals would pay millions for. Around you would be various manikins with skin suits slung over them. "Who should i be today?" he thinks to himself. Donnie, the man from the deli? Ron, who's tan skin puts him in a summer mood? Carrol maybe? if he's feeling feminine. When he's in the gym he doesn't talk much, but when he does it's a sound that will send shivers down your spine. It sounds like a hobbit overdosed on helium possessed by the 7 sons of Lucifer. So far I've been fortunate enough not to become one of his victims. He has a list, and I know I'm on it from the way his eyes twinkle and his mouth smirks ever so slightly when he looks at me. On his list I may be, but there are others, others more important than I who top his list. My friend Ryan, he follows him to bars and licks his empty beer glasses once he's left them behind. Lance, my lifting partner, he's buff like Frank Zane and would make an amazing costume for enticing lady victims, he has him fooled into thinking he's "nice". And then there is Dallas, my bff, I think he is next on the list, because the last time they were there together he climbed on the leg curl machine like a seductress on a bear skin rug and picked a big booger all while maintaining deep eye contact as if saying "watch me pick this booger, you won't live long enough to tell anyone". Our days are numbered my friends....