If he still had his tongue, he would have called out her name. But he didn’t have his tongue, because she was chewing on it. It wasn’t nearly as tough or rubbery as movies and novels claimed it would be. It didn’t even need to be cooked, not that she had time for that now anyway. No, they both had little time left for such niceties.


Frankly, she was much more concerned with how he was going to be able to eat, in his current condition, sans tongue. Sure, he could masticate. Masticate was maybe one of those words you might find on a roll of novelty “Word-A-Day” toilet paper. Masticate was a grand word for something so vulgar.


So, he could masticate, but how was he going to push it around his mouth? Would she have to push it around for him? What about swallowing?

Things hadn’t always been this complicated between them.