I didn’t want to, but I watched as he sliced a piece of my flesh from the jiggling chunk of thigh. He pinned the edge with the fork and sawed with the knife until he had a small, relatively hairless, piece of people meat to taste. It wobbled on the fork as he lifted it to his mouth and shoved it inside.

He chewed on me for a good minute, rolled me in his mouth, and then, finally, swallowed with a big, loud gulp. I could almost hear the last of me sliding down his gullet.

He looked around the room in that food-taster sort of manner then went back to the plate for the next slice.

“How am I?” I asked as sarcastic as I could summon. I was hurting, dizzy.

“Meat’s good,” he said smacking his lips. “Chewy.”

I felt sick. When I looked down the fish-shaped oval wound on my thigh was bleeding so badly my leg was drenched and dripping hot gore.

Junior decided he liked me I guess because he started slicing up the fillet of McDonald on the plate into evenly cut, easy-to-chew strips. I watched him closely as he ate one strip, chewed, then moved onto the next. Each one he chewed, hair, blood, and all, and swallowed without showing any effects.

I glanced at the Hughes boy. His head was down but I could see movement around his arms. Good boy, I thought, he’s working those ropes.

Junior finished the last of the meat and then licked the plate. I watched him, looking for any signs. He seemed to be acting exactly as he had before . . . until he didn’t. I saw his eyes flutter and he sort of swayed as he rubbed his face.

Junior smiled and turned and as soon as he did, I saw my incredibly stupid plan had worked. I might have the tolerance built up to take a handful of painkillers, pot, and whiskey and live to tell about it, but Junior the cannibal obviously did not.

He was wasted.

Eating me had wasted him.

I was toxic.

Junior stumbled forward rubbing his face and laughed. He looked like a big freak. He just wasn’t close enough yet, but it was most definitely kicking time.

“How’s it going there, Junior?” I asked. “Ready for another serving?”

El Beardo Boy laughed again and looked at me like I was his best friend in the whole wide world. I tried to look pleasant but I was holding onto consciousness like a redneck gripping a greased pig. I was gonna slip any second. I had to egg him on.

“Come on, big boy,” I said, “You can eat more than just one little piece of me!”