Nostalgia

He looked down at his work. On the floor were skewed and sliced pieces of flesh soaked in blood dripping from the table. He was sure to keep the interesting parts on a separate desk, as not to get logged with blood. His first few times, he had forgotten to do this, leaving him with a very soggy birthday present. Never again! With a simple purchase of a wheely table, he could keep these parts safe from harms way; Oh how excited he was on his first day back with his new table, he damn-near killed the mare right away, simply to try the new table! But, thanks to his conscience, he showed self-control. Now, several weeks after its breaking in, the table kept strong as he dropped them on it. First, he dug the eyes out their sockets with a scalpel- Not as difficult as one thought, just a few 'strings' to cut, as it were. Before placing each one separately on the table, he would examine them in his hoof, assuring they were of quality for his meals-he had a very fine tongue, and no garbage would due him good. There weren't many parts he praised that were too difficult to cut out from the inside, other than the brain; but that was his favorite part! After tearing the marks from their flanks, and tearing off the mane with his prized hatchet; This time he was sure, however, to get the scalp as well to keep the hair together. This one's hair was pretty special, and he wanted to keep it, maybe for a Christmas present to himself? Next, he would practically tear apart the rest to get to the skull. His hooves would get bloody and covered in fuzz, but that just gave him something to lick afterwards, just like licking the spoon that mixed the cupcake batter. Oh, getting the brain was the 3rd best part! He laid the body against the wall and backed up. OOH boy I hope this one splatters! He lined up his shot, and sprinted towards the wall, turned at the last minute to deliver a powerful buck to the skull. He fell the spray against his back, and got excited; It was indeed, a splatter. This was why they called him "The Bucker Butcher" in the papers of Canterlot. However, he grew fond of a name thought up by those out west near Apploosa; Bucky the Butcher. He hadn't had much of a name, and he thought Bucky was nice and simple. He had gotten this name by the way in which he acquired the most delicious part; the brain. The only way to get to the brain, without any expensive power-tools (which would end up cutting him), was a strong buck to the skull. But, he preferred this to any power-tool; it was much too fun and made such a nice mess! It's wasn't like he had to clean it, the police had their own fun with that.

Eventually, he bottled up the brain and all the blood he thought he would need until the next time, which was usually only a week. He had gotten quite used to his routine, he had been doing this for a whole year now. Next, he packed up all of his tools, making extra care to be sure he had his hatchet. He licked his hooves and turned to leave the house. He smiled. It's raining outside, looks like I won't need to take a shower again!

The backdoor opened and shut, leaving the house in darkness. From the outside, all it was now was an old, abandoned hut at the corner of a dark forest called the Ever-free. Nopony knew of what it contained, not for another 2 weeks anyway.

As he walked with blood-colored water washing off of him, he began reminiscing.

This one didn't scream too much. Shame, he loved that. The screams of a pony is the music of nature, its tune so sweet it could made him come to tears. And noponies scream was more beautiful than that of his younger brother. His younger brother had been his first, and what a first it was. Each cut, each buck, and each beautiful scream that came from his "victims" were in attempt to re-live that first time. In the past year he had, or at-least he thought he had, perfected his techniques. He learned where a cut would inflict the most pain with the least blood-loss, how to cut someponies mane without killing them, and of course where to buck a ponies skull for the largest burst possible with minimal damage to the brain. But, the beautiful screams were never the same. They were screams of panic and fear, not of emotion pain; the one cut he had not perfected, was the cutting of a ponies psyche.

Maybe.... it was the bond?

AHA! that was it! The bond that him and his brother shared! That was what produced the scream! With not a single pony had he shared a relationship with, in fact many of them were pulled of the street and immediately worked on. It was decided then! His next work be with somepony who had emotion for him! He must make somepony fall in love with him! This one work may take time, but no doubt it would be worth it. Plus, he could always work during this time, it was no need to stop completely.

Bucky skipped in the puddles as the last of the blood was cleaned from his coat.
He squinted his eyes, and made a large grin;

Time to prepare!