the witches brew

Fucking animals. The whole apartment complex was filled with them. Immigrants, travellers from far away who didn’t speak good English and didn’t know what being civilized was. Bill hated them all. He hated their languages and their mannerisms. He hated their work ethics (if they had any at all) and hated the amount of children they produced. They were just as filthy as the stray cats that populated the ally on the side of the building. Most of all though, bill hated their food, more specifically, the smells. They wafted up and down through the stairwell like a ghost garbage truck that would run you right over as soon as you opened your door. Bill had been a garbage man most of his adult life and knew a lot about shitty ass smells. These were the worst.
Jesus, how had he ended up like this? Fat, bald and alone in a tiny apartment in the worst neighbourhood of the city. He could thank his ex-wife, the bitch, for taking everything from him. She was possibly the one person he hated even more than the scum that surrounded him. As far as he was concerned, they hadn’t existed until he was forced to live near them.
A noise from the apartment below his interrupted Bill’s thoughts. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled in retaliation. Lately, that neighbour had been very annoying. Strange sounds were always popping up into his living room, disturbing his TV watching. Instead of silence, the sound grew louder, though still indistinguishable. “Oh that is the last fuckin’ straw” Bill mumbled. He put on his work boots and headed for the door. The troll living beneath him was about to get a good talking-to.
When he reached the door of the offender, he could tell something was off. The door was slightly open, as if someone had been waiting for him. Jesus, had there been a robbery? Worse, were the perpetrators still inside, waiting to kill anyone who might investigate? “No guts, no glory” Bill reminded himself and entered the room.
He was greeted with the most putrid smell he’d ever encountered. “Jesus all mighty!” Bill exclaimed. He walked forward, towards a sound (and the smell) and into the kitchen. Whatever hair he had left stood up immediately. In the middle of the room was an old lady (one of those immigrants) with a saw. On the table, amid blood, bone and intestines was a dog. The crazy old bitch was in the middle of taking this thing’s head off! “OH MY GOD!” screamed Bill.
The old lady looked up with a smile. “God” she repeated. “Jesus” she said right after, though with her thick accent it sounded more like “Cheese us”. She turned around to face the stove where she had something boiling. She opened the lid and immediately Bill understood where the smell had come from. She looked back at him and said in her heavily accented English “No guts, no glory!”
Bill ran out of the apartment, the old lady’s cackle following him down the stairs and out the door.
Bill awoke in a hospital bed. He tried to move but he was strapped down. “easy there! You’ve had quite a night” someone said. The man looked and sounded like a doctor. “Help doc, the witches, their making something, they’re coming!” Bill pleaded. “You just relax, the witches can’t hurt you now. Just take it easy, the nurse will be in shortly to give you some medication. Bill tried to complain but the doctor had already left. What madness was it that Bill had witnessed the night before? Was he going crazy?
As he was contemplating all of this, the door opened and the nurse walked in. He closed his eyes and imagined the awful meds he was going to have to take. He hated the banana flavoured one’s the most. As he laid there, a familiar rotten smell invaded his nose. “Jesus Christ, what is that shit?” she spat. “Drink” a thick accented voice said. A chill ran through Bill’s spine. He opened his eyes and came face to face with his worst nightmare. “No guts, no glory” she told him with a smile.