"There is a serial killer living next door…" Fred had tried to explain.

       "What?" His half asleep wife Hilda replied.

       "I said there is a serial killer living next door."

       "Go back to sleep," Hilda had whined revealing her distinct lack of teeth as she scowled at him. "You are bloody hopeless you are!" She then had added entirely for good measure.

       Fred yawned and had looked at the digital clock- 3:03 it proudly flashed.

       Putting on his dressing down and his cozy slippers he had slowly meandered downstairs to pour him self a tall glass of milk and longingly taken a gulp.

       'Nothing beats the taste of cold milk,' he had thought as he finished the last of it.

       It was then he noticed it- his neighbor's light on…again.

       'He is bloody well up to something that light is always on late at night,' he had pondered before returning to his warm bed and cold wife, and back to her obnoxious continual snoring.

       He had laid there for a moment examining his wife. He stared, almost hypnotized, at the large mole that had sprouted from her chin several years before trying to count how many black stubbly hairs were forcing themselves free from it.

       'Twenty-seven blooming years sleeping next to this,' he had moaned under his breath as he finally drifted back off to slumber…

* * *

       The following night Fred had suddenly awoken again and as he always did he stared at the clock; 2:52.

       "I am going to bloody catch him!" He abruptly said out loud rather surprised at the sudden adrenalin which was racing through his system.

       Hilda all at once had sat upright.

       "What?" She sneered in her usual screeching voice as her piggy eyes condemned him further. "You couldn't catch a flipping cold on a winter's morning if you were sitting on your fat arse naked in the bloody back yard on a gigantic ice cube-bloody useless you are."

       She then had returned her chubby red bloated face to her pillow and in under a minute she had resumed the obnoxious snoring.

       Fred got up and once more donned his dressing gown and slippers. Moments later as he was finishing his nightly glass of milk he saw that his neighbors light, yet again, was once more on. Feeling peculiarly empowered he marched out of his front door quite taken aback at his own vigor. He swaggered up to his neighbor's door and pounded furiously on it.

       "I know what your bloody doing in there!" He hollered.

       The light was quickly extinguished.

       Yet Fred was undeterred and rapped even harder on the door and yelled louder.

       "If you don't open the door right now I am calling the police."

       This apparently did the trick as within a few moments the door opened revealing his neighbor standing there in a long white overcoat and rubber gloves. Fred noticed to his satisfaction that red stains liberally adorned his neighbor's outfit.

       The two men simply looked at each other for a few long uncomfortable seconds… Then Fred proceeded by pushing through past the doorway, through the corridor and on in to the kitchen his neighbor at his heels.

       Fred saw it sitting on the counter, big silver and impressive; an industrial sausage machine. Right next to the wonderful contraption it he saw what looked like the remains of a human left foot.

       Fred had spoken first.

       "I have got a proposition for you…" he had whispered leaning into his neighbor.

* * *

       One week later Fred awoke, he felt invigorated….He looked at the clock. 8:06.

       Next he peered satisfied at the empty space beside him and grinned as he whispered out loud…

       "I'll think I'll have sausages again for breakfast…"