Toothache
The creature sat contemplating the leftovers around him. He could easily consume one hundred times his own body weight, and the gristly woman who'd occupied this wingbacked chair moments ago could not have weighed more than seventy-fives times his own weight. Yet here he sat, disturbed in his feast, by aching teeth.
This was a first. She had begun so deliciously. Bitter all through, just as he liked his meat. But then--just as he gnawed his way through some lovely marrowy bone--he encountered something even harder, like a rock.
His narrow, red eyes glanced over at the man peering nervously from behind the counter. Lucky man. No way the creature was going to even be able to finish this let alone go for seconds. What in the hell had-
There! There it was, nestled amongst some coiled intestine he'd been saving for last (oh, how he loved the squishy, soft meat of them) but now wouldn't even get to enjoy. And the culprit that he'd spit from his jagged-toothed maw sat there, unscarred. Of course...
It was her heart.