“P-please…feed me. My stomach…it hurts.” His breath was a fog of funk.

Jennings chewed happily in the driver’s seat, steering with one knee as he double fisted fried chicken wings. Grease glazed his mouth and fingers. With every bite came a sickening crunch that sent quivers through Lola’s body.

“Can’t you wait til we get him booked?” Lola said. “Can’t you see he’s agitated?”

Jennings snorted and a tiny piece of meat stuck out from his nostril. He sucked it back in, chewed and swallowed. “I don’t give a shit. If he’s got him a little tummy ache, it’s not my problem.” He poured some sweet and sour sauce into his mouth, then stuffed a full strip of chicken in. “I’m hungry.”

A dot of sauce catapulted from his mouth and landed on Lola’s knee. She watched the fabric soak it up and she had to roll her window down before she blew stomach acid all over the console.

“You have to feed me. I’m hungry!” The man rubbed his face across the metal cage, grating his skin against it. Flakes of dried blood and sauce snowed down.

“Get your fat ass back,” Jennings said, “before I pull over and whip your ass.”

Lola couldn’t look at either of them, had to roll her window down a few inches more, close her eyes, and take in the fresh air. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered. She tried to escape in her mind, but Daddy was there waiting for her.

Daddy loves you, baby.

Her eyes burst open and she saw Jennings continue to eat through her peripheral. His hands worked fast to get the saucy meat into his maw and his jaw moved up and down in disgusting rhythm. The man slammed his body against the cage over and over, rocking the whole car as they sped down the road.

“Oh God…give me some food. Please. Just…just one bite.”

Jennings laughed, his stomach bouncing in waves. He spat the mouthful of saliva-coated, mashed-up food into his hand, smashed it against the grating of the cage wall. “There you go, buddy. Knock yourself out.”

The man didn’t even hesitate. The brown glob plopped down onto the floorboard where it wiggled from the movement of tires over uneven pavement. The fat man tried to bend his body, like an obese contortionist, but couldn’t even get close. His face glowed maroon, sweat oozed from pores, veins bulged to the point of bursting. Spittle rained from his purple lips as he growled and grunted.

“P-pull over.” Lola had to concentrate to get the words out without spitting up.

Jennings watched through the rear view and chuckled. He crammed more food into his mouth.

The fat man, finally giving up on his struggle to slurp up the masticated meat, began licking the cage where the food had been pressed through. He snorted as his tongue slid roughly over the metal, moaning and whimpering.

“…Jennings…p-pull the fuck over.” But it was too late. Her fat-fuck partner ignored her pleas and continued eating while he watched the man lick. Warm, frothy bile spewed past her teeth and lips, drenching her knees and the glove compartment.