Fiction

The biter bit


Foolish Fred would bite his nails when he was alone;
Then he bit his fingers right down to the bone…

…then he swallowed thumbs and palms
Followed by his wrists and arms,
Both feet’s toes, soles, insteps, heels –
Munching drowning anguished squeals.
Calves and shins and knees and thighs,
All consumed in front of eyes
Which had to watch the ghastly view
Of family jewels eaten too.
Still he chewed without a rest
Bum, back, insides, belly, chest,
Shoulders, neck and lastly head:
Fred was – barring gnashers – dead.

When his wife walked through the door,
Just his teeth lay on the floor.
Snapping like the jaws of hell
Fred’s teeth wolfed down her as well.

Bear in mind these dreadful tales:
Never, ever, bite your nails.

Picture source: Wellcome Collection