Donnie bellowed in rage, pounding the counter with his hoof-like fist. Patrons of the Blind Pig spun around at the uncharacteristic outburst, and saw him staring down at the floor behind the bar.

A chill fell over the room as a few more adventurous souls edged closer and peered over the counter. Audible gasps were followed by a few dashes to the restrooms, though most simply turned away with sick looks.

Although he knew what he would see, Jack got up from the piano. Yet another victim had been discovered, the third time this week right inside the Blind Pig. He hoped enough remained to allow identification. The one on Tuesday... Jack shuddered, forcing that grisly image from his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and leaned over for a look. A soft moan escaped his muzzle. It was the worst yet. Crushed beyond recognition, the vicitm's remains had been ground into the floor. He drew in a scent. Oats, with a touch of honey. His eyes teared up. Damn the bastard! He had been planning on having those Honey Nut Cherrios for breakfast. And now they were gone. Done in by the Cereal Killer.

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