“Come on wait- wai-!” The freezer door slammed shut a hollow metallic clang, sealing me in with a rotating click. I leaned my head against the cold door, emitting a defeated thud, and released a pained sigh. I’m really starting to regret not calling in sick today. My hands were bound by orange baling twine, and I was almost completely naked, were it not for my pink flamingo briefs and converse. Could be worse, I though to myself.

In the frigid stillness of the ice box, a resounding SHINK sliced through the air, akin to metal meeting a razor’s edge. A numbing cold hugged my bones and sent my stomach flipping inside. As I slowly began to pivot, my eyes absorbed a sickening tableau-carcasses of cattle and pigs, suspended by heavy chains and piercing hooks. Amidst the unsettling display, a colossal figure appeared.

He towered at 6’5” and 300 lbs., the icy blue glow of the freezer light revealing his pale skin and bald head that rendered a looming silhouette. A massive hand raised above the figure, revealing a butcher knife that descended with a thick thunk, causing a pigs head to roll off the butcher’s table with a meaty hit of the cold concrete. At that moment sound, reason, and rationality had left my body. My poor flamingos suddenly became much warmer, and hyperventilation began to set in as I futilely shuffled backwards.

"Not much point in moving" Came a guttural growl from the butcher table. "They like to tie people's shoe laces together. It's cheap, but it makes harder to squirm I guess." Glancing down I observed the sadistic craftsmanship-an intricate knot shaped like a gift wrapped ribbon, entangled my shoes together. Who are these people?

The Butcher turned toward me and began to walk ever so slowly, his finger traced against the blade calculating its sharpness. "Fear not." he murmured "Just hold still and this will be all over before you know it." My heart beat faster but amidst the looming figure and gleaming butcher knife, I noticed an underwhelming current in my killer-was that boredom? A peculiar, unsettling boredom that resonated as just apart of his routine and it all felt so lazily scripted as if he had better things to do. Call me crazy but I could've sworn I just saw him yawn a little. To tell you the truth, I felt offended. Nevertheless, I was only seconds away from becoming just another butchered pig. If I wanted to get out of here alive, I had to think of something fast. The butcher knife ascended above the bald head and began to drop.

"Wait!" I pleaded throwing my bound hands in a feeble attempt to shield myself. I cracked one eye open, and found the blade hovering dangerously above my head, and in that moment, I locked eyes with my imminent killer. I expected eyes full of bloodlust or maniacal rage, but once again I was met with dull baggy orbs that afflicted nothing more than sheer boredom. It hurt my pride a little, but I wasn't gonna let it show.

"This isn't you." I confidently declared. His eyebrow arched and confusion flickered across his face.

"You're not some cold-blooded killer who sits in a dinky freezer all day waiting for orders to kill someone" I pressed on.

"I'm not?" His response held a note of genuine curiosity.

"No, of course not!" I replied, putting a touch of sympathy to my voice. "You're someone meant for the great outdoors, basking in the sun, using your unique talents for good—like, uh, working at a coffee shop! You don't have to butcher people."

A skeptical look crossed the butcher's face. "But I like butchering."

"No, you don't." I held a finger up. "You're just listening to what your farmer buddies are feeding you. Deep down, you're feeling, dare I say it,-bored?" I carefully chose my words gauging his expression. "Go on, tell me one thing you can't stand being here." His eyes were hard at thought and I could see him ponder the question.

"Well... Now that you mention it, it is pretty chilly here." He admitted.

"Right!" I exclaimed, seizing the opening.

"But," he added with a sly grin. "I just cut the skin off the things I butcher and wear it like a little coat. Keeps me nice and warm for a bit" He said in an amusement that clashed with the violence at hand, and I struggled to conceal the disgust and fear across my face.

"Okay uh-Dave?" I squinted at a haphazardly scrawled name tag on his bloody apron. "Dave there is a world of wonder and unexplored joy you have yet to experience, and I'm gonna show it you. You and me pal, friends exploring the world, and all the animals you could..." I hesitated, gulping, "...butcher."

"Friends?" I could see him ponder the concept.

"Yes, of course, friends. Come on, big guy, what do you say? How about we put down that eerie knife, hug it out, and then we can get out of this ice box."

All at once, time seemed to slow down.

For a fleeting moment, I saw Dave smile. Still holding the knife, he outstretched his arms in a friendly manner. Overwhelmed with excitement, I moved toward Dave the Bucher. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment I had completely forgotten about my still constricted laces. My entire body careened into Dave, his massive frame pushed off balance, and the gleaming knife was thrown into a chaotic orbit. He hit the ground hard, knife hurling and gleaming in the air. As Dave sat up, anger etched in his face, fate took a sharp turn. With a thick ca-thunk, the knife found a resting place on the top of Dave's pale bald head. His face contorted, and slumped backward with a weighty thud.

I sat there in my urine-soaked pink flamingos, mouth agape in absolute awe. I really should've called in sick today.