Juan covered his mouth with his hand, and couldn’t stop his entire body from shaking.

FAMILY DINNER

Butter fell off in clumps as Timothy stuffed handfuls of it into his pink mouth. The tub sat between his legs on the kitchen floor. Gwen slurped up raw slices of bacon, barely chewing before swallowing. The kids took no notice of each other. The refrigerator and freezer doors hung open. Chubby fingers reached for food—any food—and brought it crashing to the tile beneath before being devoured.

Dad sat at the kitchen table with a frozen whole chicken, clawed at the icy flesh, licked the beady skin. He bit into the breast and tore away a chunk of meat, chewed on it with difficulty.

Mom chased the cat around the living room, her torso bouncing up and down and to the side, her breasts battling each other under her stained blouse.

The kids grunted and breathed heavily as they emptied the contents of the refrigerator down their gullets. They made quick work of it, hardly chewing anything, letting it sit on their tongue long enough to get a quick taste, just a smidgeon, then down it went. Timothy stuffed raw egg after raw egg into his mouth, the shells crunching between his teeth like sand.

He couldn’t remember how things got the way they were. It seemed just weeks ago, they were a happy, normal family. Him and Gwen battled for the “best report card” spot on the fridge door, held there by the magnet shaped like a graduation cap. Mom and Dad loved them, supported them, provided for them. Times were rough, Timothy knew that. Money wasn’t easy to come by he had heard Dad say a few times.

But Timothy’s birthday came up. They always go out on birthdays—a family tradition. That year, Timothy had discovered his love for Chinese, sesame chicken in particular.

“How bout the Paradise Buffet?”

And they went, the whole family. And they ate. Then ate some more. And more. The food was amazing. Timothy couldn’t stop. But after an hour, they were forced out. The next day, Dad piled everyone into the van and they went back. Then the day after that. It started to haunt Timothy’s dreams, his every waking moment. He wasn’t thinking about the food…his thoughts became the food. Like his brain was deep fried and floating in sauce. It got to the point that nothing would satisfy him, and from the looks of it, the rest of his family felt the same way.

Nobody cared about grades any more. Nobody cared about anything except the Paradise Buffet. Their stomachs churned uncontrollably. No matter how much they ate, it wouldn’t fix the hunger. And they grew, every one of them. Bulged and widened. But they only craved the Paradise Buffet. The other food was to calm the guttural growls in their bellies, just to hold them over until they could get back to the buffet. But they had no money. It was gone. The Chinese man wouldn’t let them inside without money. No matter how much Dad and Mom begged.