The Beast from the Interrogation Chamber
The beast was feeling under the weather today. It didn't know why though. It felt loose, like an old door knob that rusted a bit at the joint and started warping. No reason. None. The previous prisoner left the room screaming honest confessions. The one before left unconscious, but no sooner than spilling his guts, both metaphorically and physically. And now this rotten feeling. The cloo clock showed that there was possibly time for one more, but the beast was tired. The wife should be home by now, and dinner must be on the stove. The beast decided to call it a day, washed off the blood from it's clothes, claws and glasses, and went out in to the hollow, cool, dark corridor leading to the stairs up. What looked like the longest day of the beast's life was going to be its last, but it was going to have dinner first, and only then find out about it.