Roger had been walking for perhaps ten minutes when he heard a scampering sound behind him. He tensed, wondering if the wolves had come to fetch him back; maybe they were damned souls too and being beaten up by a pick-axe was part of their punishment. Then the scampering stopped, as did he. A moment passed and then something heavy hit him in the middle of his spine and he hit the ground. Hard. His head popped off the top of his spine, leaving exposed bone and ripped nerve behind, and bounced a short way along the ground. As it spun round, leaving him feeling nauseous but with no way to vomit, it finally came to a halt facing his erstwhile body.
"Jim?" he said. Stood on his fallen body was something that looked like the left half of Jimbo had been ripped off and crudely stuck onto the right half of a wolf. The muzzle half of Jimbo's face was buried in a bloody hole in Roger's back, while his human arm waved around frantically, trying to suggest that eating Roger's vital organs wasn't its idea.
"It's not my fault!" said Jimbo, his voice muffled partly by only having half a mouth and partly by the other half chewing on a kidney. "It wasn't my idea. You don't half taste good though mate, what have you been eating? The muck they fed us down here is just rubbish."
"Jimbo, get off my back, stop eating my blasted kidney, and put my head back on my shoulders!"
"Umm, be right with you there, mate," said Jimbo indistinctly, nosing around in the hole after the liver he could smell. "I think there's a rib in the way here." There was a cracking sound.
"Those are my ribs!" yelled Roger. "I was attached to them! I've had them most of my life!"
"Yeah, well you walked off and left me to the wolves, mate," said Jimbo. "So no hard feelings, eh?"
"I wasn't walking off, it was part of a calculated plan to lure the wolves away from you so you wouldn't be getting torn apart anymore! I was saving you, you... you... cannibal!"
"It's not me that's so tasty, mate," said Jimbo. "Mmmm. What's these wiggly bits in here next to your lungs?"
"Why don't you take a nibble and tell me?" said Roger sarcastically. Then, "NO! No! Down! Bad dog! That was sarcasm, you dim twit!"
"Tasted like chittlins to me," said Jimbo. "Are lungs good to eat?"
"Not my lungs," said Roger quickly. "It's all the smoke down here. They're probably cancerous."
Jimbo looked up, and for a moment Roger thought he saw worry in his eyes, then the wolf side of him pulled their head back down and started munching again.
"For the love of all that's unholy," raged Roger. "Put my damn lungs down and come over here and pick my head up!"
"Braaaaaaains?" said Jimbo, lifting his bloody half-muzzle once again.