There is a figure in the confessional booth. The dark outline bobbing slightly, a strange, wet sound filling the booth, something like slurping. A disturbing meaty rip follows. There is an audible gulping and loud clearing of the throat. “Sorry padre, needed somewhere to finish my lunch”.
“ why's it always you out 'ere at night - ” not surprised, really, but his heart is moving inside his chest in odd ways that suggests he's scared, anyway; his imagination had conjured up crocodiles with a maw full of unmentionable offal, maybe something with soft, blood matted fur stuck between it's awful teeth.
but it's only severen. roddy holds the confessional door open, peering into the darkness while the only thing he can see of the man is his boots sticking outside the door. “ can't ask t'come stay in the big house, y'gotta break in here er'night ? don' be gettin' sauce on the screen, son. ”
