Wicked Hungry

I shake my head. “How do I know it’s not drugs? It’s not addictive?”

He stares at me like I’ve gone crazy. “Hello, Stanley? You think I would put chemicals in my body?”

“Lots of drugs are natural,” says Karen. “Like marijuana, or opium. Alcohol. Tobacco.”

“Shut up, Karen,” Zach says. “Let me talk.”

“That’s all this is, isn’t it, Zach?” I say. “Just a lot of talk.”

Zach shakes his head. “Those toxins in you? They’re controlling you.”

“Nothing is controlling me.”

“Oh yeah? Then how come you keep gritting your teeth, making fists and staring up at the moon?”

“What’s your point?”

“You can feel it, can’t you? It’s pulling at you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stanley, does your mother know that you’re craving Burger King?”

Could he have heard us? Or is he just guessing?

“Enough, Zach,” Karen says. “Leave him alone.”

“You of all people should be telling him how good it is, Karen.” He turns back to me. “Stanley, all I’m saying is, just try. We do have a free trial.”

“I’ll think about,” I say.

“It doesn’t work,” Karen says.

“It works. It just takes time to see the results. But in the meantime, Karen, if you try to convince anyone else not to try them, I’ll tell your parents about your little nighttime excursions. How’s that sound?”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

Zach shakes his head. “Just protecting my interests. Stanley, you sure you don’t want some supplements?”

“Anything to shut you up,” I say.

But Karen shakes her head. “Don’t take them.”

“Stanley, we’ll talk again when the carnivore is not around.”

He starts to walk away, then turns back. “You know, the whole city, the whole forest needs cleansing. We need cleansing. But what am I saying? You’re wearing leather shoes. You’re on the way to Burger King. I thought you were like me, but you couldn’t possibly understand.”

“I don’t know about Stanley, but I understand one thing,” Karen says. “You’re a fricking psycho. What I don’t understand is why I ever went out with you.”

Zach snorts. “You’re one to talk. Just keep taking the supplements. And don’t touch me again. Ever.” He walks off, breaks into a jog. Then he’s gone. I used to be able to run like that. He makes it look so effortless. Just blending into the night.

I turn back to Karen. “What was all that about?” I ask. “Should we just go home?”

She shakes her head. “You need to eat, Stanley. And I need to calm down.”

We order, and I hobble over to the bathroom. Zach was right about one thing. About one big, bright, and shiny thing. The moon. I can feel its pull even now, in the restaurant.

Back at our seats, Karen doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. We sit there waiting for our food.