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.
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