Happy Thanksgiving! There are many Thanksgiving traditions, but none quite as revered as the slicing of the turkey. Traditionally this duty belongs to the patriarch, who has generally done nothing in the kitchen that day but suddenly emerges as the only one capable of this profound act of dexterity, thereby reaping an undeserved degree of credit for the meal while his beleaguered wife pours herself a fourth glass of wine and topples from exhaustion. But in the Sawyer Family the responsibility of cutting up the bird is granted to the youngest child, Leatherface, who does such a superb job rendering the meal into bite size bits that no one would dare challenge him. And mmmmmmmm, nothing really seasons a bird like fresh chainsaw oil.
This happens. How could it not? If there is one thing Leatherface cares about, it’s his dead skin mask collection, and he’s not about to just let his folio of faces rot away in a shoebox somewhere. Every visage in his gruesome collection is lovingly laundered after use, and then hung out in the breeze to dry (never put human flesh in a dryer, folks).