Being Food

What's for lunch?Why is everyone looking at me that way? I can't put my finger [sic] on it, but there's a look in their eyes today. Everywhere I go it's the same. Something about the way they smile . . . but those aren't smiles . . . why is everyone smirking? It isn't natural. Why do I feel like a freak? Is there something in my teeth [sic]? Maybe my skirt [sic] is tucked in my underwear [sic] again?

No. It's something else . . . I can feel it . . . I know it. Here comes a little old lady. I'll ask her, because little old ladies are always . . . wait . . . she's smiling, too. That same gruesome, frightening not-a-smile . . . why is this happening? Run.

Safe. They can't see me here. I'll wait until dark, then hightail [sic] it out of here. Go south, where the weather suits my clothes [sic]. Maybe dye my hair [sic] before I stop at that little restaurant at the edge of town. No one will notice me then.

I wonder what's on the menu.



  1. I remember visiting a petting zoo at a farm with my then-small children some time ago. We saw the cute goats, lambs, and llamas. Then we came to the pen for turkeys. The turkeys had been given names: Thanksgiving and Christmas. It only took a moment or two for my kids to figure it out.

    It was like they had give the lamb the name Mutton, the calf the name veal...or labelled the cow's cage "Meat."

    Maybe I'll buy a new dogtag for my dog and get 'Inedible' engraved on it.

  2. It's appalling. My now-college-age daughter ran into similarly troubling animal-related situations, and still does, unfortunately.

    But there will be no animals served around here tomorrow. Well, except for Styx, maybe. But he won't be stuffed, at least not beforehand.