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Hot Chow
by Michael A. Kechula

“Dammit!” Harry yelled. “I didn’t find anybody walking the streets tonight. What’s a guy supposed to do to get some hot chow?”

“I didn’t find anybody, either” Charlie said. “I’ve never been so famished.”

“I’m heading back to Haiti,” Moe said. “Never missed a meal all the years I lived there. Somebody’s always getting lost in the jungle.”

“Hold on,” Harry said.  “I still have the cell phone I took from that guy I ate last week. Suppose I call 911 and say there’s a bomb hidden in the mall. Hundreds of people will run out of the mall.”

“Good idea,” Charlie said. “The lot ain’t lit very well. If we play our cards right, we can yank a few shoppers into the surrounding bushes. Then it’ll be PARTY TIME!”

“If we get caught,” said Moe, “the cops will shoot us.”

“So what? They can’t kill us twice.”

“True. Which makes me wonder—if I’m dead, why am I so hungry?”

“Who knows? Who cares?”

“Then we all agree that I’ll call 911 and say there’s a bomb in the mall,” Harry said. “Let’s go to the parking lot. When we reach the trees, I’ll make the call.”

Before long, they arrived at the tree-lined perimeter. They carried ice cream scoops, the edges of which they’d honed to razor sharpness.

“Get ready,” Harry said. “I’m gonna call, now. Hello, 911? There’s a bomb in the mall.” He hung up quickly.

Before long, shoppers rushed from the mall.

“Don’t move until somebody gets real close to the trees,” Charlie said.

Three unlucky shoppers moved too close to the trees.

Harry, Charlie, and Moe munched on fresh, hot brains they scooped from crushed heads. When sated, they slipped away and headed for their night’s lodgings.

“Those were the sweetest I ever had,” Moe said. “Reminded me of candy canes.”

“Mine were slightly salty,” Charlie said. “Now I’m thirsty.”

“I sprinkled garlic powder on mine. Dee-licious!” Harry said, picking a few gray morsels from his putrid teeth.

“Too bad we don’t have a freezer,” Moe said. “We coulda stocked up real good tonight. At least a week’s worth.”

“Wal-Mart has lotsa freezers,” Charlie said. “Maybe we can build some surplus, then find a way to hide it in their freezers. It's something to think about tomorrow. The cemetery’s just ahead. Let’s get a good night's sleep and work on that one with fresh minds.”

“Minds?” asked Moe. “None of us has any brains left that ain’t petrified by now.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Harry said. “I often wonder about the irony.  We don’t have brains. Yet, we eat them hot and fresh every chance we get.”

“Speaking of brains, I could go for a gray matter pizza with extra cheese for a change of pace,” Charlie said.

“We’ll work on that tomorrow,” Harry said, as they entered a moldy crypt.