Beantown Bug

With the internet—my primary data gathering source—gone, I had finally awoken to the gravity of my situation. Rather, I’d finally awoken more to the gravity. Or, whatever. The point is, I—we—are in serious shit, and no amount of web surfing could make it go away. The realization combined with the morning’s events and the painful hunger eating away at me, and it all formed into a mass of terrible shit.

It was a disturbing realization, that was for sure, but it that was all that it was. My boat was simply rocking, not capsizing and sinking to the briny depths. I couldn’t say the same for Jake or Beth, unfortunately.

Things were rapidly spinning out of control; our world was crumbling around us. Provided we managed things correctly, the supermarkets in the city could sustain the three of us until we all inevitably met our tragic deaths, be they through disease or injury.

But, that’s just survival. Merely surviving isn’t enough. As I had once learned in my youth, people need stability. Normalcy. The shock of the past day had already taken its toll on my brother, and there was no telling how much longer Beth might last. It even pained myself, browsing the aisles of an empty supermarket. The terror of daily life had been replaced with that of life in a dead world. Someday, this would be the new normal, but until then, it was abnormal—and the rapid transition would destroy us, given the opportunity.

Hence, I took it upon myself to instill a sense of normalcy in the house, with proper meals. No more grazing from a box of plain Corn Flakes.

With neither of my fellow survivors present, I had taken a quick trip to the supermarket to gather ingredients, and I made damn well sure not to try and sample anything off the shelves. The last thing I needed was to have another one of my episodes—especially when nobody knew where I was. With a defined goal other than ‘grab stuff’ I made record time, and found the house to still be empty when I got back.

The concept of a ‘comfort food’ had never eluded me, but it wasn’t something I had ever indulged. Eating for the sake of eating was not some sort of refuge I could hide away in. All my life, I was fat. Undeniably fat. I had too much baggage to enjoy food the way I wanted—I would always be overcome by feelings of guilt after dessert or unnecessarily large meals. I was too concerned with trying to not gain weight.

But, I was confident that Jake and Beth were free of such restraint. Even if they had similar feelings to my own, they’d be glad to have a square meal, certainly. I would give them pasta, the one kind of food I adored above all the others. Something that I, myself, enjoyed eating, despite my feelings after the fact. The food where portion control ceased to exist.

I would sit them down at the dining table and set their plates before them. There’d be a moment of confusion, before their faces would glow with recognition of my work. They would ask me what I made, and I would tell them: cut ziti, al dente, with a liberal coating of pesto, and a caesar salad on the side. They would eat. They would enjoy. And then I would eat. And then I would enjoy. And then I would no longer be hungry.

“Wha—” I grunted, and blinked as I found myself gazing at my reflection in the bottom of the kitchen sink. My messy, blue hair hung over my face in a tangled mass. From the darkness of my own shadow, two sets of bright, blue, concentric circles shone from the darkness. My long muzzle protruded through the webby curtain, my jaws marked by a row of needly teeth, with two massive fangs hanging down from the top corners.

“What the fuck am I?” I asked myself. I was something horrifying. Something monstrous. Suddenly, I couldn’t blame Jake for having a nightmare. I was that nightmare. Holy shit.

I was so lost in that realization I didn’t hear the sound of hooves behind me.

“Peter?” It was Beth. “Are you okay? You’re…” I slowly turned to look at her, while I still leaned on the sink for support, “Uh...shaking?” She took a step back, and I saw it again. The color of fear in her soul.

“No. I’m not okay.”

“Does something hurt?”

“Nah. I’m just...dealing with shit.”

“Oh. Okay.” She didn’t seem so sure what to do with herself, the way she swiveled back and forth around her hind legs. “I, uh, I am. Too. Do you, do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah, I just, need some time on my own,” I lied through my teeth. “Thanks though, Delicious.”

“Wha—wh-what’d you just call me?”

“Sweetheart?”