MEAT

 "I don't want to eat it! It's gross," I said, eyeing the thick slab of chest meat that was still so hot that I could see the fat under the skin bubbling. The slice of lemon on top was like a sunflower growing in the center of a charred field. My mom sighed, daintily cutting into the hunk of thigh sitting on her plate. 

  "It's good for you," she said, taking a bite. A single trickle of  blood dribbled down her chin and she licked it away, "Don't you want to be big and strong like your dad?"

I looked over at dad and he gave me a thumbs up,"Yeah look at me, I'm the best."

 "But...his name was Joe," I said quietly, moving the green beans around on my plate. 

 Mom shot Dad a look and he sighed, getting up from his seat to come over and crouch beside me.

"Does it bother you that it used to have the same name as your friend?" He said, resting his hand on my shoulder. 

I nodded, not looking at him.

"This isn't Joe. Yes this used to be someone named Joe, but that person died when it was his time and now we're putting his body to good use. The Joe you know is eating dinner with his family right now... I don't know what's come over you all of a sudden, yesterday you were asking for extra tongue."

   Outside the supermarket that morning there was an old woman protesting by herself, her long kinky hair swirling around her like a copper colored cloud. She was wearing a long paisley nightgown and pink flip flops, standing in front of the entrance with a sign that said 'You Ate My Son'.

  "Don't make eye contact with her Sam," my mom whispered, pushing me to stand behind her as she grabbed her cart and fast walked past the lady. 

   "Please! It's rotting us from the inside, no mother should eat a son, no son should eat a brother! Please!" The lady howled, waving her sign back and forth. Despite the warning not to, I looked back at the lady as we passed, and our eyes locked.

  They were a foggy brown, like two old pennies embedded deep in her wrinkled face, "Please child, don't eat my son." 

  I could feel chills run up and down my spine as I quickly turned away, my heart beating in my ears. 

I almost cried when mom picked out the meat named 'Joe; Pennsylvania', but I didn't say anything. I kept my eyes fixed on the ground when we left, too afraid of meeting the lady's eyes.

  I knew this hunk of meat wasn't really Joe, but I couldn't stop thinking about that lady's hard copper eyes, full of more sorrow than I had ever known.

  My parents eventually wore me down and I ate Joe that night, but every night after I fed the meat to the dog under the table. 

  Joe had been my best friend since we were eight. Every day after school he either went over to my house or I went to his, and now that we were thirteen we had started to walk into town every night instead. 

  "Do you think Jenny likes me?" He said, kicking a rock every few steps. "She's bent over in front of me at least twice in the last few weeks. I got a full view."

  "She's probably just airing out her boobs," I replied, laughing. "Forget girls man, focus on your strategy for the arcade." 

   He nodded, adjusting his backpack, "I have a good feeling about today, one of us will definitely get high score."

  "Hopefully, I really want that free pizza."

We weren't the only ones with that idea, when we reached the arcade it was completely packed.

  "I think I see a free machine," Joe said, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the crowd from the door. We made our way through, elbowing other kids out of the way and shouting 'Dragon Knight!' so nobody would take the game. 

   Joe got to the machine first and slipped his quarter in. First level, second level, third, he made it all the way to level 20 on one quarter. I had never seen him play so good.

   "Woah!" I shouted, punching the air as he destroyed the Dragon King on level 22. People had started gathering around at this point, Joe was dripping in sweat and I could see him shaking.

   "Pour soda into my mouth," He said, licking his lips. I tried to oblige but when he tried to swallow he choked and spit it out on the floor to his right, simultaneously falling to his death in the game.

   Everyone groaned and I slipped another quarter in so he could have another go. I expected him to yell at me for spilling soda all over him but he just said "It's fine," and went back to playing. 

   But it wasn't the same after that. Every time he tried to fight the Dragon Boss his hands would twitch and he'd die either by falling off a ledge or getting burnt by the Dragon. Everyone had wandered off by that point and I could tell Joe was getting frustrated, popping in quarter after quarter. 

  "Hey, do you want me to play?" I asked delicately. 

   "No! I can do this," He snarled, his face pale and sweaty. And then, he stopped.

    "Joe?"

 "I..." He gasped, trying to swallow back the saliva gathering in his mouth. He took a step away from the machine and his legs buckled underneath him. I tried to catch his fall but he was all dead weight and I couldn't keep him up.

  His whole body started shaking uncontrollably, heaving with dry gasps, his back leaning against the front of the machine. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with fear and I felt more helpless than I had ever felt in my life.

 Three employees in green jackets ran over, two helped him to his feet while the third called 911. 

  I stood outside with everyone else as the ambulance took him away, my mind blank. 

  "He's probably fine."

I turned and saw the manager standing behind me, his face warm and cheerful with square glasses and a gray ponytail.

  "...H-how do you know?" I replied, my voice shaking with unshed tears. 

"Oh I've seen this kind of thing a hundred times, he'll be fine." 

I bit my lip and looked away. Something about that bothered me. 

I tried visiting  Joe every day after school, like I always had, but his mother always turned me away after that.

  "Oh Joe's not feeling well today."

  "I don't think Joe wants to play Sam."

  "He's trying to focus on his schoolwork right now Sam, please don't bother him."

And then eventually, "Joe's been sent to live with his uncle in Canada, I'm sure he'll write you."

The night after Joe moved to Canada, I dreamed about the woman outside the store. But this time instead of holding a sign she was cradling Joe's immobile body in her arms, rocking him gently back and forth.

   "Shhh, it's ok," she whispered, brushing his dark hair away from his face.

  I took a few steps closer so get a better look. The speckled brown birthmark on his cheek was festering with tiny insects and there was a maggot burrowing into his left eye. 

    The woman was gazing lovingly into his rotting face. She leaned her head down towards his, as though to kiss him gently, and instead ripped the flesh off his forehead; her teeth breaking through the bone with ease. His brains oozed out of his open skull and dripped down onto the cement, pooling around her pink flip flops.

  I took a quick step backwards, reeling in disgust, and she looked up at me.

"Would you like a bite?"

I woke up screaming. 

   That night my parents showed me every educational video they could find on the  meat industry. 

   The show went through a tour of a meat processing plant; thousands of bodies hung, naked and skinless, on hooks in a freezer the size of a warehouse. Men with face masks and thick white jackets walked down the rows, spraying each body thoroughly with a chemical hose. 

  A man with a hooked nose and a monotone stepped onto the screen and droned on about the pursuit of safety, excellence and taste. Only humanely slaughtered criminals and intact bodies preserved after fatal accidents were selected to be processed into meat products. 

  The dog started getting sick after that; he wouldn't drink or eat, and when he tried to walk now he would stumble and slip. One day after school my parents sat me down and told me they had taken Rex to the vet, and he wasn't coming back. They told me he was bit by a mosquito, had gotten a fatal infection and I got a new puppy the next day.

  I named my new puppy Joe and began burying all the meat from dinner in the backyard instead.