The man awoke with a jolt, his head throbbing as his vision swam back into focus. The first thing he noticed was the cold metal beneath him, its chill seeping into his bones. He tried to move, but his wrists and ankles were bound by thick leather straps, pinning him to the table. Panic began to rise in his chest as he glanced around, realizing he was in an old, dilapidated garage. The place was filled with dusty hot rods, their once-pristine exteriors now corroded and forgotten. The stench of burning flesh hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with every breath. The sound of boots crunching on gravel caught his attention. His heart raced as he strained to see who—or what—was approaching. A figure emerged from the shadows, moving with a lazy swagger. The man was tall and muscular, wearing a pair of dark shades despite the dim light. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the smoke curling lazily upward as he exhaled. His head was protected by a scuffed hard hat, and his body was clad in a red shirt that strained against his broad chest, a black apron splattered with dried blood draped over it. "Well, look who's finally wakey wakey," the stranger drawled, his voice tinged with a deep southern accent. "Where am I?" the man on the table croaked, his throat dry and raw. The stranger grinned, revealing teeth yellowed by years of tobacco. "Welcome to my Monster Garage, partner." With a flick of a switch, the garage came to life. Neon lights buzzed to life overhead, casting an eerie glow across the space. The man’s eyes widened in horror as he took in the full scene. All around him, machine parts were welded together with human remains—arms, legs, and torsos fused with metal to create grotesque, patchwork creatures. The centerpiece was a massive beast, half-man, half-machine, lying dormant in the center of the garage. “What the hell is that?” the man screamed, his voice cracking with terror. The stranger chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette. "That there’s Hondo, Bucko. My pride and joy." As if on cue, the creature stirred, its mismatched parts clanking together as it groaned to life. It opened its eyes—one human, one a glowing red lens—and turned its gaze on the man. "I need them parts…" it rasped. The man struggled against his restraints, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, no, no…" The stranger—Chainsaw Cec—removed his shades, revealing eyes that glowed an unnatural, sickly green. "We got parts, alright," he said with a sinister grin. "And you, big guy, got exactly what Hondo needs." Desperation seized the man, and he thrashed violently against the straps. But it was no use; the bindings held firm. Cec tilted his head, as if considering something, then reached into a nearby toolbox and pulled out a chainsaw. The machine roared to life, its jagged teeth spinning with a deafening snarl. Cec held it up, inspecting the blade with an almost casual air. "Oh, too messy for ya?" he asked, noticing the man’s horrified expression. Cec shrugged and shut off the chainsaw, setting it aside. "Well, let’s see if we can’t make this a bit more personal." With that, he reached up and pulled a cord, revealing a panel in the ceiling above the man. As it opened, the man’s blood ran cold. Dozens of severed heads dangled from the ceiling, each one mounted on a metal rod. But they weren’t dead—not entirely. Their eyes rolled and their mouths moved soundlessly, as if they were trying to speak but couldn’t. The heads swayed gently, as if in time with some unseen rhythm, their lifeless gazes fixed on the man below. The radio in the corner crackled to life, and the mournful strains of Hank Williams' "There’s a Tear in My Beer" filled the room. Chainsaw Cec’s face lit up with delight. "Oh, I love this song," he said, aloud. As the music played, Cec moved closer, a steel blade gleaming in his hand. He hummed along with the tune as he plunged the knife into the man’s leg. The man screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of the garage, mingling with the haunting melody on the radio. The pain was excruciating, blinding. The man’s vision blurred as he struggled to stay conscious. Cec leaned in close, his breath hot against the man’s ear. "Nap time, big guy," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. The last thing the man saw before the darkness took him was the flicker of the neon lights, strobing in time with the screams that now filled the air. "Parts, parts we need them parts,