Wil Thatcher told himself that tonight's job was one of the stranger things he'd been hired to do, the job itself was supposed to be easy but definitely weird, his boss wanted teeth from a young woman and he thought it best if he didn't why.

"When the person you work for gets old and senile....." Wil muttered as he tampered with the door of the house where his target lived. "...they fall deep into depravity, then they ask people like me to do weird shit in the middle of..."

Wil always knew london was strange and growing stranger but then in the middle of a cloudy night sky perfect for the dark deed he needed to perform, the moon broke through the clouds changed, brighter larger more oppressive and right in the middle of a break in, the only thing that would make it worse would have been tripping an alarm.

Wil didn't think highly of himself or the situation as the lock gave in and the door opened, without hesitation Wil stepped in to the house.

He barely saw the frying pan.

Music was playing in the house when he woke up, tied to a chair, his head throbbed from the blow he had received.

He checked himself over the best he could while still tied down, with every turn of his head nausea threatened to loosen his stomach on the floor before him.

It didn't help that the young woman turned up the music after seeing him wake up.

It wasn't even new music it looked like she was using a record player to pump the house with flowerchildern music

Wil was starting to wish for the frying pan again.

There she was, a crazy dancing girl with a frying pan in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other.

"Clowns to the left........." The woman mumbled as she sautéed forward and then did a quick shimmy back.

Wil had watched the movie she was imitating and it didn't exactly end well for the guy tied to the chair.

Especially with no half dead man in the room to pull a last minute save.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Then in the middle of a two step the young woman put the frying pan against the side of his head. He could feel the cold iron on his face.

"This was my gran's seasoned pan, before she went traveling she made sure I knew how to treat her utensils. And now I have a head indentation in the cast iron. How hard headed do you have to be to dent cast iron?"

Wil felt himself go light in the head for a moment as she stepped back from him.

"Now over the last few days someone tried to burn down my business, I've seen a dead body, I've woken up strange places wearing only my nickers, I almost got arrested, along with a whole host of other... undesirable situations and now today after a really, really annoying dream, you, some seedy lookin bloke breaks into my house, carrying a pair of plyers and my photo."

Alice throws the small hip bag he was carrying at him but it bounces off harmlessly since the items were removed. She then leaned in closer and whispered.

"Now, I am going to do something but how drastic a thing I do depends on what you say next. So for my benifit be like the strong silent type in the movies."

She then stepped forward and removed the tape and rag from his mouth.

"I work for Tony Stewart, he is an art dealer. I am just an art thief, you have some rare stuff I am to check for and see if I can grab, that's it." Wil choked out at once eyeing the meat cleaver.

"That's it? Wow, I didn't think that would work but it's not a classic movie without making you feel it could be real."

Wil sighed, she was just pranking him to get the full story.

Then the frying pan came down on his left knee cap, with a mind searing crack.

"A few years ago in this house someone broke in and attacked me in my sleep, removing of all things a few of my teeth. And now a random bloke breaks in my house with a plyers, my picture and a rubbish story about something valuable that he plans to nick."

The bottom of the pan hit his left shoulder with enough force to tip the chair he was on briefly. He screamed and yelled and cursed her, his boss and his luck.

"I swear its the truth." He screamed.

Somewhere in the yelling and cursing the woman shoved the rag back in his mouth while feeling his throbbing arm.

"We'll see about that!"

Tears rolled down his face as she poked and prodded his arm with the cleaver.

"No broken bones. That's good, it means you won't be distracted by the rest of my questions. "

Wil talked like his mouth was a broken faucet, he talked and she wrote down everything he had to say until he finally slipped about the true purpose of the plyers.

Wil swore her eyes turned gold.

Her posture changed as she looked around the house, like if she was seeing it anew.

Then she picked him up chair and all with one hand so that he could meet her eye to eye.

Then her teeth grew, it was like watching an old werewolf horror movie where they showed you bit by bit the transformation but with her the change ended at the teeth but it was enough to make his bladder release itself.

And then everything went black.

------------------------

Ila stood in the house as she continued to feast on the Wil manthing, new words, thoughts and consideration flooded her mind. One of which was that, it was a bad idea to leave the dregs of a meal in the den, the carrion feeders would come or a journalist something might.

She would have to remove the carcass.

With the moon still shining down it would be another long night.