Sacrificing Scumbags at the Honey Altar
My mother's honey shop served only women, and she sold only one type of honey.
The honey was contained in small glass jars, and it had an eerie name—Heart-Eroding Honey.
Whenever women came to buy honey, my mother would personally lead them through the shop and into the mysterious beehive room in the backyard.
Shortly after the door was closed, there would always be faint, suppressed moans coming from inside. I never knew whether it was from pain or satisfaction.
However, when the women reemerged, they would all have rosy faces and radiant smiles, as if they had been completely nourished.