She looked down at the meat beneath her, really seeing it for the first time. It was faceless, no longer moving, no longer protesting. A beefy skull stared back at her, its eyes glistening and stained with blood, the sockets swimming pools of crimson. Like meatballs in marinara.

She bent down and sucked them out, squashed them with her molars. Warm jelly flooded her mouth, coated her tongue.

Then she remembered. The Paradise Buffet. That’s where she wanted to be. That’s where the true delicacies lay. As she rocked herself, trying to find footing, arms and hands attacked from all sides. She was thrown to her back and held there.

“Please, you have to let me go. I have to get to the buffet. I’ll die if I don’t.” She wanted to say this, but all she could muster were moans and labored breaths.

Red and blue lights flashed. Sirens wailed. More shouts.

Chandra looked past the chaos and saw others walking away from her. Big bodies. Balls of lard with arms and legs and mouths, heading in the direction she wanted to be heading.

She couldn’t let them get there before her. Had to beat them there. The food belonged to her, and she wouldn’t let them have it.

“Mine!”

She fought off the restraints of limbs, the people she couldn’t see holding her there. Her body wiggled and thrashed. She found a leg and bit into it.

Something struck her chest, vibrated. Like bee stings. She ignored it, bit harder. Screams. Blood rushed past her lips and teeth and down her throat. She climbed the leg, clutched stiff fabric and hauled herself up, finding new strength at the thought of her food being eaten before she could get there. Her stomach twisted.

“They can’t have it...buffet is mine...”

More stings, then a blinding liquid in her face. It made her hungrier, reminded her of the General Tso’s chicken, the Szechuan beef. Before she knew it, she was on the ground again, her face pressed against the street. Her hands were behind her back, locked there.

“No...”

She tried to move, but found it impossible. Her hunger was at its peak. She turned her head, found her own dark, meaty shoulder. As she began eating it, she wondered if there would be anything left at the Paradise Buffet for her. She hoped the others left her something...anything.

REMAINS

Lola stared at the front of the house, standing just outside of the driveway. The door stood wide open. Stripes of blood tracked from the doorstep down the driveway toward the sidewalk. She had the man’s driver’s license out, was ready to check the address to make sure she had the right house, but tossed it aside; this was the house.

Do I really want to see what’s inside?

The small house reminded her of her father’s. Same rusty color, about the same size. She’d spent so many years of her life taking care of him after her mother died, the years when she should have been stressing over school work and boys and acne. Instead, she was elbow deep in Daddy’s fat and hairy skin. Bent over his stained sheets. Biting her tongue to keep from screaming. Feeling him shanking her, running his sausage-fingers over her back, her thighs, grunting and growling. Warm sweat trickling down onto her body.