"At your service, madam."
As he spoke, Minced Meat bit the harmonica in his mouth, and in the candlelight, his diminutive shadow grotesquely stretched, brandishing claws and fangs. From beneath the wheelchair, mechanical arms unfolded silently, a shotgun, and a meat-covered chainsaw too, their bizarre shapes revealing a sense of darkness and ferocity.
"Awooo~"
Several wolf howls sounded in the middle of the night.
Minced Meat, lacking limbs, operated the strange wheelchair solely with his tongue and teeth. The wheels crushed over the ancient floorboards, and as the wheelchair turned a corner, Jane's room came into view.
The yellow door knob rattled slightly, and the door opened silently. Minced Meat clenched the control handle in his mouth, curled up in his narrow wheelchair, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
