Razormouth lays in wait, hungry and thirsting for blood. An hour ago his dull incisors and molars didn’t dispatch his last victim quickly, causing too much chaos.

Spit glands flood his craw, oiling his dark maw. His iron jaws, moist with lubricant, wind up in anticipation of human lard.

Soon a tilting drunk, lost and singing an Irish ditty, finds his way into Razormouth’s lair. His thirst springs him into action. Jaws slowly unfolding, Razormouth slinks slowly out of his dark doorway.

Now shouting out vulgar lyrics, Razormouth’s snack falls flat on his juicy ass, pissing his pants. Razormouth works his way to within a foot and unlocks his jaw, clamping down on his victim’s torso.

As guts and brains spill forth, Razormouth pulls his carcass into his throat, catching a buzz off of his victim’s soupy alcoholic flavor.

Gut now full and warm, Razormouth burps and farts his way back into his dark doorway to lick cooling blood off of his poisonous snout and to savor his fatty sugar rush.