“There was once a farmer who was obsessed with keepin’ his cattle alive by any means necessary.”
“Ya see, he was a bit of a miracle worker with his hands. Any cow or lamb that got sick or hurt would come to his barn and walk away alive an’ well.”
“Mostly, anyway.”
“See, these animals, once they got sick? They was walkin’ away lame. They was alive but they weren’t perfect.”
“They went from dyin’ on his table to dyin’ in the field.”
“See, in nature, predators prey on the weakest links. Those with limps, those that were weezin’? They were perfect targets for the feral animals waitin’ just beyond his fence.”
“And the more the field filled with these weak, sickly beasts, the hungrier the predators got. Night after night they’d plunge their teeth into the cattle the farmer worked so hard to save.”
“See, this farmer in all of his hard work wasn’t savin’ lives. He was just delayin’ the inevitable, servin’ them up on a silver platter to the hungriest, most blood thirsty bastards around.”
“How does it feel knowin’ that everyone who comes across your table or sits in your clinic is gonna die, Doctor?”
“Every last one of them is gonna leave your office with a big target painted on their back. Some of them limpin’ with prosthetics, others too weak to walk without a cane. They’re lame, Death. As me and my boys walk around the floors we keep track of the weakest links, the ones that will go down the easiest to sink our teeth into.”
“And all of them start back at your little farm, that floor you call a clinic.”
“Like the farmer, you tend to these animals because it makes you money, you’re obsessed with their wellbein’ even if you don’t admit it. Your life is driven by keepin’ these lame humans alive well past the expiration date, sendin’ them out into Arcadia to be devoured by the strong.”
“They call you a miracle worker, the best in Arcadia, but the truth ain’t so sweet. You’re a shepard, a farmer sendin’ the citizens out to pasture and right into our waitin’ jaws. No one can live forever, Death, and soon enough you’re gonna learn that first hand.”
“Because ya see, once the field ran empty, the cattle began to dwindle, the animals at the fence were already accustomed to eatin’ good. They wanted more.”
“And the only meat left once the cattle are gone lies right in that farm house.”
“I’m comin’ to your clinic, Doc. Me and the boys are gonna bust down your door and get our fill. No one lives forever, and ain’t no one enough of a miracle worker to fix what we’re gonna do to you, boy.”
“So lock your door, kiss your cattle goodbye, because I’m about to come a knockin’.”
“Now get ready, I’m about to ring that dinner bell.”