You can't very well swallow her whole, now can you? That would be simply ridiculous.
You leave Berry Punch, just for a moment, to look about the house to the bathroom, you'll need the tub. You can't seem to find it downstairs, although you do poke your head into the kitchen to preheat the oven and take out a few ingredients. Leaving the kitchen lights on, you head upstairs, looking into one of the rooms on your right. The door was open just a crack, and you can spy, underneath a thick, fluffy comforter decorated with colorful birds, is a sleeping foal. She couldn't be more than ten, and you assume that the drunk snoozing on the couch is her mother and only guardian.
Shame that the little one will have to be put up for adoption soon.
Finally, you spot the bathroom at the end of the hall, and head back downstairs to retrieve your prey for tonight. Berry's alcohol-soaked nerves don't even register her head bashing up against the hardwood floor, or when the knocked repeatedly against the staircase as you drag her behind you. She only manages to stir when you toss her into the tub, and even then she only murmurs in her sleep and rolls about a little.
You retrieve your implements for tonight, a sparkling clean set of cutlery with which you'll butcher the unsuspecting mare. But first, you decide you'll need to wash the sweaty stench off her, to make a suitable meal. You position her under the faucet and pull, letting the warm water run over her. The suds wash over her, and run down the drain, dyed dark with sweat and dirt.
Once she's thoroughly clean, or at least slightly cleaner, you turn the water off and prepare your anesthetic. It's a special brew that you purchased from a back alley witch doctor over in Manehattan. The elixir slows heart and bloodrate to a crawl, as well as dulling the senses to near-uselessness. Ideal for your work.
You put the lip of the bottle to her lips and tip it back. Berry swallows subconsciously, sealing her fate. She won't be waking up for some time.
You prepare her forelegs, carefully shearing them clean, then dabbing with a bit of lotion to soften the skin. A quick cut around the joints with the scalpel will make it much easier for the bonesaw to slip in. Your deft hooves move the bonesaw quickly, cutting apart the tendons , while leaving the scrumptious muscle mostly intact. Then you go to work on the other leg, severing it even quicker than the first.
You pause for a bit, examining the two pony legs before you. You're honestly not that hungry, these two would be plenty for yourself, even another pony. You carefully wrap Berry Punch's legs, and leave her to sleep. She won't be up for some time, and the blood loss is minimal. You'll finish her off later, or perhaps not. Maybe you'll just leave her like this after your meal is finished. Imagine the sight! A pony with no front legs, you'd laugh your head off!
With Berry Punch sleeping away, unarmed, you head down to the kitchen to prepare a scrumptious stew. A few carrots, cabbage, peppers, and of course these delectable hooves and you are all ready to simmer up a meal for one. Although, it seems a little much for one pony. You could even share this meal with somepony, but you wouldn't know who to ask. They'd have to have a very open mind. Or be very naive..
Thinking it over, you decide that,
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