Heavenly Peace

Silent night, holy night.
That’s what the humans call it.
I called a feast night.
Going home to home, looking for babies to eat.
Always searching for the perfect specimen, one that’s both tender and mild.
Just like the song.
The song says that only the holiest of infants is tender and mild, but season them properly, any infant will do.
Slow roast is better than boiling.
As long as you don’t mind the screams, it’s just for a minute at most.
The meat comes right off the bone.
I am so full.
I think I’ll sleep in heavenly peace.

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