The pigs squealed and grunted as they were killed. In horror, I watched my father at his work and I saw his vampire bat tattoo. Its eyes glowed red as it danced back and forth on his sweaty back. His face and torso were smeared red with blood and he looked like something from the depths of hell.
One dark Winter's night, as the snow was falling outside, my father had not returned from work. My mother sent me out to search for him. I found him floating face-down in the river. His bloated body lay in the icy waters among the garbage and the corpses of dead animals. He looked just like one of the fat pigs he had killed in the slaugherhouse.
My older brother was another alcoholic. He used to sit at the kitchen table, drinking himself into a stupor, just as my father had before him. He grew into a violent and sadistic brute. Whenever he drank, he would pick fights with whoever was unfortunate enough to cross his path.
He got a tattoo on his back also. It was an enormous dragon.
He showed nobody any mercy and would always beat people until they were unconscious. Everybody in town was afraid of him and he made himself a lot of enemies. Night after night, the violence within him grew and he fought like a madman.
On one occasion, I was with him at a local bar when a fight broke out. When I saw my brother beating one man senseless with his bare fists, he reminded me of my father. It disgusted me.
One dark, Winter's night, as the snow was falling outside, he was found beside the river, lying in the snow. One of his enemies had finally caught up with him and had almost beaten him to death.
