Dieting and Rioting
Author's Note: I don't know if McKinley High has a vending machine. If it does, that ruins the whole point of this story. So let's just assume it doesn't! J
McKinley High School emanated with the sounds of student voices ricocheting off the walls. It was another Monday, and half-awake students groggily turned the dials on their lockers while bubbly cheerleaders and early birds enthusiastically greeted their boyfriends or met up with their cliques.
Sam Weir mechanically colored his biology homework (due fifth hour today), balancing his notebook on his knee while leaning against a wall.
"I didn't eat breakfast today," Sam's friend Bill Haverchuck noted, his tongue awkwardly lolling in his mouth. "I'm hungry."
"Why didn't you eat breakfast then?" Neal Schweiber asked sensibly as he straightened his sweater vest and briskly brushed his fingers through his stiff, curly hair.
"My mom didn't get up early enough to make it," Bill retorted. "Hey Sam – Sam, do you have anything to eat?"
Sam looked up at his friend, his eyebrows knit in frustration. "Bill! I'm trying to do my homework."
"Give me your sack lunch. I know your mom packs one for you every day." Bill looked at Sam expectantly.
"No!" Sam told him. "That's my lunch."
"Okay, okay." Bill backed down. "I guess I'll just have to go hungry, then."
"Like you can't wait four hours?" Neal asked him. "Quit being such a baby."
"I am not a baby," Bill insisted. "Maybe – maybe Cindy has some food."
"I'm sure she'd give it to you!" Neal shot back as Bill walked away. "So, Sam, how's that homework coming? Nice coloring between the lines!" Neal quipped.
"Shut up, Neal." Sam messily scribbled blue crayon onto his paper.
"Outta my way, geek." Kim Kelly pushed past Neal and Sam, knocking the crayon out of Sam's hand.
"Hey!" Sam looked up, mildly annoyed. "What did you do that for?"
Kim was already out of sight.
Neal laughed as Sam knelt to pick up the crayon. "Aren't you gonna help me?" Sam demanded.
"It's one crayon and a piece of paper," Neal said. When Sam shot him a dirty look, he added, "Someone's in a bad mood today."
*
"Oh, boy, it's national health day," Kim observed, filing her nails as she leaned against her locker.
"Yeah, I bet they serve real healthy lunches today," said Daniel Desario.
"Yeah. Reduced fat hot dogs and low-sodium ice cream," Lindsay Weir laughed.
"Hey, ya know, don't make fun of the school lunches," Nick Andopolis told his friends. "I mean, if it weren't for them, I'd never eat, you know?"
"Yeah, you're so malnourished," Lindsay replied sarcastically, patting Nick's arm.
"Did you hear about those health screenings they're making us do first hour?" Kim asked. "They test our hearing and eyesight and stuff. Why do they really care?"
"Don't be so paranoid, Kim," said Daniel. "They're just trying to make sure you don't have an excuse to slack off."
Kim shoved Daniel.
"Yeah, and because they'd get their asses fired if they didn't comply with the stupid school regulations." Lindsay rolled her eyes.
"See? Lindsay agrees with me, and she's smart," Kim told Daniel.
"Doesn't know everything," Daniel pouted.
*
"Ms. Weir, it's your turn." Lindsay's first-hour teacher dismissed her to go to the school nurse's office. "Be back as soon as you can."
Lindsay stood up from her desk and walked toward the front of the classroom, brushing her hair behind her ear. Wait, she thought, why am I trying to make myself look good? I'm only going to see the stupid nurse. The female nurse!
She arrived at the nurse's office and found Kim sitting in a chair in the small waiting area.
"Hey! Kim," Lindsay acknowledged. "How's it going?"
"Your brother's in there asking the nurse tons of questions." Kim leaned back against her seat. "But you're next."
"Did you already get your check-up thing done?" Lindsay asked her.
"No, I'm waiting for the male nurse," Kim replied.
Lindsay looked confused.
"Yeah, he came from the local health clinic for health day," Kim said. "He's pretty hot. But he has a patient right now. I have dibs on him, though," she warned.
Lindsay laughed softly as Sam emerged from the nurse's office. "Hey, Lindsay," he said. "Guess what? I grew half an inch."
"That's great, Sam," said Lindsay.
"I'll see you around." Sam smiled at Lindsay and glared at Kim as he left.
"What's up with your brother?" Kim wanted to know.
Lindsay shrugged.
"Next," the crotchety female nurse called from her office, just as the male nurse stepped out of a door from the other side of the room.
"Come on in, Kim," the male nurse called.
Lindsay nearly gasped at the young man wearing a crisp white coat and sporting trendy glasses and a full head of light brown hair.
"Next," the other nurse repeated, her tone becoming frustrated.
"See you around," Kim told Lindsay with a note of "ha ha I got the hot nurse and you didn't" attitude in her voice.
"How have you been doing, Ms. Weir?" the female nurse asked Lindsay monotonously.
"Um...fine, I guess. Well, I sort of had a cold last week but...um, I'm better now." Lindsay was always nervous around doctors, even though she knew she wasn't going to even get poked with a needle this time.
"Time to weigh and measure you." The nurse adjusted her glasses. "Take off your shoes and-" She looked Lindsay up and down. "-coat."
Lindsay kicked off her shoes and dropped her army jacket on a chair, then hopped on to the nurse's scale.
"Looks like you've gained a little weight," the nurse noted in an uninterested voice. "You must have grown some."
Lindsay hopped back off the scale and lined up against the wall, where the nurse measured her.
"Nope," the nurse told her. "Same height."
Lindsay glanced at the nurse's chart and saw that she had gained eight pounds over the last year. She shrugged. She hadn't noticed because she had bought so many new clothes over the summer, ditching her conservative long skirts and sweaters for her more relaxed style of jeans and t-shirts. But she was by no means fat, so she really couldn't have cared less.
The nurse checked Lindsay's hearing and eyesight, both of which were find, and then let her go. Lindsay breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped back into her tennis shoes and her familiar army jacket.
Kim was looked ticked off in the waiting area.
"Hey, Kim," Lindsay greeted her.
"I've gained three pounds," Kim moaned. "Three pounds! I can't believe I let myself gain so much weight. And, I mean, the hot nurse was examining me! Man, I'm so embarrassed."
"Geez, Kim, it's not that big of a deal," Lindsay told her. "I mean, I gained like, eight pounds. And it could be just-"
"You gained eight pounds in one year?" Kim's eyes widened. "Are you on your rag or something?"
"No." Lindsay's mouth twisted into a sideways half-grin. She was beginning to get annoyed. "I don't think it's any big deal, Kim."
"Yeah, but what if you gain eight pounds every year for like, the next five years of your life or something?" Kim asked hypothetically. "You'd gain forty pounds!"
"Relax, okay?" said Lindsay. "You don't have to 'worry' about me so much."
"I just don't want you to be ugly, Lindsay. Nick won't want to have sex with you if you're fat."
"Shut up!" Lindsay cried.
Kim's eyes lit up. "Hey! How about we go on a diet together?" she suggested. Her voice tone was verging on "valley girl."
"Yeah, right. My mom would think something was wrong right away if I lost any weight," Lindsay said. "She knows everything. She practically keeps track of what Sam and I eat every night."
"Lindsay, stop being such a prude. Come on," Kim prodded her. "We could make it into a contest or something. See who can lose the most weight the fastest."
"Kim, no," Lindsay refused, shaking her head. "That sounds really stupid."
"Then I guess I'll be the skinny model and you'll be the fat loser," Kim insisted.
"Fine," Lindsay agreed. "You know what? I'll do it if you really care that much." Lindsay regretted even telling Kim about her weight gain. She knew that Kim would make fun of her for an eternity, just because she didn't have the highest metabolism.
"Good. We'll start today at lunch," Kim said. "I'll be watching you."
*
"Chicken pizza?" Neal asked the cafeteria lady. "What is this?"
"It'll give you protein," the cafeteria lady replied smugly. "You going to get it?"
"Yeah, yeah," Neal sighed, pushing his tray along.
"This food doesn't look too good." Bill cringed.
"It's food, Bill," said Sam. "Come on, Neal. Hurry up!" Sam set a small carton of orange juice on his tray.
"Well I'm not gonna eat it!" Bill insisted.
"Look, you already stole my Twinkies out of my lunch," said Sam as he rang up his juice. "Just take something."
"You have to buy a whole lunch," the cashier told Sam.
"What do you mean?" Sam asked. "I've bought just juice before."
"It's national health day," the cafeteria lady insisted, pointing to a brightly colored sign on the wall that read "IT'S NATIONAL HEALTH DAY! CELEBRATE!" in bold letters, surrounded by dancing fruits and vegetables with smiley faces. "You have to buy a whole lunch today."
"But I brought my lunch from home," Sam insisted. "I just want something to drink."
The cashier shrugged. "Sorry, but you have to get something else, too."
"Sam, you're holding up the line!" Bill nagged.
"I don't have anymore money," Sam told the cashier.
"Then you can't get anything at all," the cashier replied. "Unless you buy an entire lunch."
"So let me get this straight," Neal piped up from behind Sam. "He can eat nothing, but he can't just drink an orange juice?"
By this time the people behind Sam, Neal, and Bill were beginning to get rowdy.
"Out of the line, you three," the cashier yelled at them. "I'm not ringing any of you up!"
"Thanks a lot, Sam," Neal said as the cafeteria lady removed Neal's tray from his hands. "Now we don't get to eat anything."
"Hey, it's a stupid rule!" Sam insisted.
The boys found their regular lunching spot and sat around the table. Sam ate his sandwich as Neal and Bill eyed the food hungrily.
"Sam, that isn't fair. I haven't eaten anything all day," Bill complained.
"Except his Twinkies," Neal reminded him.
"Whose side are you on?" asked Bill.
"This school should have vending machines," Neal reflected.
Sam looked up from his sandwich. "That would be a good idea."
"Then we could – we could get candy any time we wanted!" Bill caught on.
"Hey, maybe we can start a petition for a vending machine," Neal suggested. "We can get everyone to sign it. I'm sure everyone would think it was a great idea! I'm brilliant!"
"Yeah," said Bill and Sam.
"What? I am," Neal insisted.
"Okay, let's do it," Sam agreed.
"I'll type out the petition tonight," Neal volunteered, "and then we can pass it around to everyone tomorrow. Oh, man, the girls are gonna love me."
"Sure," said Bill. "Because the girls love food so much."
*
"Hey, aren't you two going to eat anything?" Ken Miller asked Kim and Lindsay as he settled into his seat with a plate filled with two slices of pizza, a cup of frozen yogurt, and a tall glass of cranberry juice. He noticed Kim and Lindsay staring at his tray of food. "Yeah, kind of defeats the purpose of health day, doesn't it? But I figure I might take the advantage of not clogging my arteries with this oh-so-nutritious food while it lasts."
Kim chuckled. "Linds and I are on a diet."
"A diet? What do you need to be on a diet for?" Daniel asked them.
"We just are," Kim replied.
"Hey, Lindsay," said Nick as he joined the group. "Hey, Kim."
"Hi, Nick," said Lindsay.
"Lindsay, you have to try this shrimp and broccoli pizza. It's totally queer," Nick insisted.
"That's okay," Lindsay refused.
"We're on a diet," Kim clarified.
"Don't you girls have to eat something?" Ken asked. "Couldn't you, I don't know, die, if you didn't?"
"Yeah, Kim. I don't think an apple is going to make you fat." Lindsay was beginning to get irritable with all the elusive food surrounding her.
"No, Lindsay. You can eat when you get home. But just carrot sticks," Kim reminded her.
"I don't even know if we have carrot sticks!" Lindsay clicked her tongue.
"Lindsay, you look beautiful," said Nick. "Don't listen to Kim. She doesn't know what she's talking about."
"Lindsay gained eight pounds since last year!" Kim informed Nick. "I don't think that's something to laugh about."
"Oh, no, eight pounds!" Ken feigned concern. "Now she'll never be able to try out for the cheerleading squad!"
"Lindsay, you better be sure not to ruin that nice body," Daniel told her.
Lindsay sighed heavily and stood up. She was beginning to get lightheaded.
"Hey, where are you going? You better not be cheating on your diet already!" Kim called after her.
"Lindsay, come back," Nick tried to reason as Lindsay stalked away.
In the girls' bathroom, Lindsay glanced at herself in the mirror. She didn't look any different than she had looked last year...and eight pounds was just...well, eight pounds. Right? It was no big deal. She was just tired of Kim calling her fat. But if Kim hadn't known how much weight she had gained, she probably wouldn't have said anything in the first place.
"Get over it," Lindsay said to her reflection.
She couldn't bring herself to eat lunch, though.
*
Dinner at the Weir house was uneventful as usual. The roughly forty-five minute period consisted of Sam jabbering about Neal's great innovative idea.
"We're going to have a vending machine at school!" Sam cried gleefully. "Neal is going to organize a petition, and everyone will sign it, and then we can get food all day long. Even between classes and stuff!"
Lindsay rolled her eyes.
"Honey, I don't want you eating all that sugar," Jean Weir told her son. "All your teeth will rot and fall out."
"Oh, Jean. Let the boy have some fun at school," Harold Weir insisted. "This could teach him a great lesson on marketing."
"Are you hungry, sweetie?" Jean turned to Lindsay, noticing that her daughter was picking at her corn on the cob.
"Oh...yeah, Mom, I'm fine. We just had health day at school today, and..." Lindsay trailed off.
"Oh, sweetheart, you don't have to worry about your cholesterol!" Jean laughed. "This supper is completely healthy. I promise."
Lindsay looked down at her pot roast, sitting in its own fat. "I think I'm going to go to my room now," she excused herself.
"Lindsay. Eat!" Harold commanded.
"Dad, I'm not hungry!" Lindsay said.
"Before you leave this table you will eat the wonderful dinner your mother has made," Harold maintained.
"Just eat a little something," Jean told her gently.
Lindsay cut an inch of meat and put it into her mouth, then cleared her plate and padded down the hallway to her room. She changed into her pajamas and then held her clothes up to her old clothes tucked away in her closet. Comparing the size tags, she noted that her current clothes were a size larger than her old ones. She filled up a glass of water from the bathroom and drank the whole thing, then went to bed.
*
By lunch hour the next day, Neal boasted 218 signatures on his vending machine petition.
"Lindsay, sign my petition," he told Lindsay, stopping by the freaks' lunch table.
"Huh? What is this?" Lindsay could barely stay awake. She struggled to keep her eyes focused.
"As a favor to me, please?" Neal pleaded.
Lindsay wearily grabbed his pen and scribbled her name onto the piece of paper.
Neal's face lit up. "Thanks! Hey, Lindsay, are you okay? You look kind of pale."
"She's fine," Kim answered for Lindsay, shooing Neal away.
"Have you eaten anything all day?" Nick asked Lindsay.
Lindsay shook her head. "No."
"I can't believe it. Last night I so pigged out on supper." Kim slumped back in her chair. "I have no self control. I don't know how you do it, Lindsay."
"Lindsay, this isn't healthy," Nick reasoned.
"Hey, you wanted me to lose weight, Kim, so I'm going to lose weight," said Lindsay drowsily.
"Here, Lindsay, have my milk," Nick offered.
Lindsay sighed and drank the milk. She wasn't a big milk drinker, but the dense liquid was heaven sliding down her throat. Her empty, aching stomach began to feel slightly better.
"Well, I admire Lindsay for sticking to the diet," Kim said.
"You're a real bitch, you know it?" Nick cried. "Lindsay, I need to talk to you after school, alone."
*
Neal, Bill, and Sam walked down to Mr. Rosso's office together after school. Mr. Rosso was pretty cool, for a guidance counselor, anyway, and he would definitely understand the school's need for a vending machine.
"I'm sorry, but we can't do that," Mr. Rosso told the boys, looking at the petition.
"But we have nearly 300 signatures!" Neal protested. "What's the big deal about a vending machine?"
"The school doesn't have significant funds to purchase that much food," Mr. Rosso clarified. "We're on a tight budget, and the teachers are already on strike for a higher salary. I'm sorry, boys. I know you really want this vending machine, but we just can't do it."
"But that isn't fair!" cried Neal. "I thought this school's decisions were in the student's best interest. I mean, you can afford to decorate the gym for prom but you can't afford one stupid little vending machine?"
"Whose pocket do you expect these funds to come out of?" Mr. Rosso asked. "We don't have enough money. Now, unless you can get a fundraiser going and raise a crapload of money, we aren't going to do it. It's just too trivial."
"Hey, that's a good idea. We could do a fundraiser!" Sam agreed.
Mr. Rosso shook his head. "You can't do that either. It's against school policy to do a fundraiser unless it's for a school club or academic activity. Not for a candy machine."
"We will get our vending machine," Neal threatened, "even if I have to take this to the district supervisor!" He stormed out of Mr. Rosso's office, followed by Bill and Sam.
"Maybe – maybe we don't really need a vending machine," Bill reasoned.
"Yeah, is it that big of a deal, really?" Sam asked. "I'm sure my mom could pack some extra Twinkies for you guys to share with me at lunch."
"That's not the point, Sam!" Neal insisted. "This school doesn't care about its students opinions, and I'm going to make them if it's the last thing I do."
Bill and Sam glanced at each other and burst into giggles.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want," Neal surrendered, "but I have something better up my sleeves." He rolled his sleeves up smartly. "You'll see."
*
"Harold, I'm worried about Lindsay," Jean told her husband after dinner that night. "She's hardly eaten anything."
"Oh, she's a girl," said Harold. "You know how they are."
"Hey, Mom." Lindsay emerged from her room in pajamas. "Hey, Dad."
"Did you do your homework?" Harold asked.
Lindsay shook her head as if to clear it. "I think so."
"Are you all right?" Jean asked her.
"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine." Lindsay steadied herself on a doorpost. "I'm just going to go to bed now, okay?"
"All right. Sweet dreams." Jean motioned to Lindsay, and Lindsay came near enough to her mother to let her kiss her on the forehead. Then she retreated into her room.
The phone rang.
"Who could be calling at this hour?" Harold wondered.
Jean answered the phone in the kitchen. "Hello?" She paused. "Oh, Neal! Oh, sweetie, he's asleep."
"I'm awake!" Sam called from his room, dashing into the kitchen. "Is it Neal?"
Jean handed the phone to him. "Don't stay on too long," she reminded him before leaving the kitchen.
"Okay, Neal. What's the plan?" Sam asked resignedly.
"We're all going to gather in front of the school tomorrow and demand a vending machine until we see it installed in the halls of McKinley High with our own eyes," Neal laid out his plan smoothly.
Sam tried his best not to laugh, or groan, or sigh, or just hang up. Instead, he asked, "What time?"
Even if Neal's plan didn't work, Sam had never been on a riot before.
*
"Mom, I'm going to need a ride to school early today," Sam told his mom over a bowl of Fruit Loops the next morning.
"How come, honey?" Jean asked him, washing the dishes.
"Well..." Sam hesitated. "Well, Neal and Bill and I have to, ah, study for a really big test..." Sam hated to lie, but he did it fairly often. Plus, he knew that his mom knew that he was lying, but she also knew that he rarely got into trouble, and just liked to keep some things private. So she usually respected his wishes.
"Well, all right. I'll have your father drive you on the way to work."
"What's that?" Harold asked from behind his newspaper.
"You're going to drive Sam to school today," Jean told him.
Lindsay entered the kitchen and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. She carefully cut it in half with a knife and began peeling one of the halves.
"Is that all you're eating?" Jean asked her.
"Mom!" Lindsay slammed the banana half down on the kitchen table. "I'm not hungry, okay? I wish you'd get off my case."
"Lindsay!" Harold warned.
"Why are you so irritable lately?" Jean turned away from her dishes to put her hands on her hips. "Is it because you're not eating? Are you on a diet or something?"
I knew she would know something was up. Lindsay shifted her eyes downward, trying not to let the tears spill out of them.
"Oh, honey, you don't need to go on a diet," Jean tried to comfort her.
Lindsay swallowed hard and looked up. "You know what? Forget it." She stomped out of the kitchen.
"I guess we should go to school now," Sam prodded Harold.
"All right," Harold agreed. "I'll see you later." He kissed Jean good-bye and herded Sam out the door.
*
Sam was surprised at how many people were gathered in front of the school as his father pulled up to the building.
"What the hell is going on here?" Harold asked in astonishment. "Some kind of protest or something?"
"I don't know, Dad." Sam tried to play innocent. "Thanks for taking me to school." He quickly jumped out of the car and waved good-bye as his father sped off to work. He found Neal and Bill.
"Sam! You're here," Bill noted.
"Pretty successful turnout, eh?" Neal boasted confidently.
Within minutes, a chant of "We want a vending machine. We want a vending machine!" had begun. It wasn't too original, but it caught the principal's attention, as well as several security guards'. They tried to drag some of the kids away, but there were too many of them crowding around the school building.
Finally, Mr. Rosso exited the building and waved his hands into the air to calm everyone down. "There will be an assembly in the auditorium at 8:30 A.M.!" he shouted. "Everyone who is currently in attendance is required to come!"
*
Lindsay stumbled into the school and found Kim, Daniel, Nick, and Ken. "Hey, guys," she greeted them.
"God, Lindsay, are you okay?" Kim asked her with exaggerated concern.
"Yeah, you can barely walk," Daniel pointed out.
"That's because I haven't eaten in three days," Lindsay said.
"Lindsay, this is ridiculous. You have to eat," Nick told her sternly.
"Yeah, come on, Linds," said Kim. "When I said we were going on a diet together I didn't mean that you weren't allowed to eat at all. And, I mean, I cheated on my diet on the first day, and I haven't gone back to it, so I guess you like, win or whatever."
"I gotta be honest with you, you look like crap," Ken told her.
Everyone stared at him.
"No, really," Ken insisted. "I'd rather see a girl with a little meat on her bones than a skinny girl with black circles under her eyes and a green complexion. I don't know, that's just my opinion, though."
"Come on, let me take you out to lunch at Stackey's today," Nick offered. "We'll share a cheeseburger and malt. You deserve it, Linds. Okay?"
Lindsay shook her head. "No, you were right, Kim. None of my old clothes fit anymore."
"Lindsay, you aren't thinking straight!" Kim told her.
The intercom crackled on. "All students report to the auditorium immediately."
"Sheesh, what did we do wrong now?" Daniel asked.
*
"Due to several 'anonymous' letters," Mr. Rosso announced in front of nearly the entire student body in front of the auditorium, "and a very generous 'anonymous' grant from an 'anonymous' parent of one of our students, the school will be installing a vending machine in the south hallway this afternoon."
Cheers rang out in the auditorium.
"We did it! We did it!" Neal cried in disbelief as he high-fived Sam and Bill.
"Finally we get some decent food around here!" one kid shouted.
*
The food truck pulled up to McKinley High School at approximately 2:00 P.M., and within an hour a vending machine was set up. It was just one, and kids were crowded around it all day, but it represented a small victory for the student body.
In her last period class of the day, Lindsay struggled through blurred vision to complete her test. She could barely write her own name and she had no idea what the date was, but she somehow managed to float up to the front of the classroom, hand it into the teacher, collect her things, and leave the room as the final bell rang.
She stopped in front of her locker to put her books away and slumped to the floor. Closing her eyes, she rested her hand against her head and took in deep breaths. She opened her eyes to see the school hallway tilting before her. Gaining composure, she slowly stood up, leaned against her locker for ten seconds, and then pushed herself toward the mainstream of the crowd.
Lindsay bent over the water fountain and took a long drink.
"Lindsay!"
She whirled around and came face-to-face with Millie Kentner.
"Hey! Long time no see." Millie flashed Lindsay a friendly smile. "How are you?"
"Oh, hey, Millie," said Lindsay groggily. "I'm okay. How are you?"
Millie's smile quickly turned into a frown. "You're stoned again, aren't you?" she scolded.
"What? Millie, no!" Lindsay insisted.
"Yes you are. Look at your eyes," Millie snarled in disgust. "You made a really stupid mistake, Lindsay." Millie pushed past her and walked haughtily to the door.
Lindsay turned on her heels, noticing that the hallway had nearly emptied. That was when she saw it.
It was beautiful. It was like an oasis, or a desert mirage. It was everything she had ever wanted and hoped for.
It was the vending machine.
"Oh!" Lindsay flung herself at the large piece of metal and flung her arms around it. Acting solely on instinct, she quickly unbuttoned her purse and dug her hand into its depths, pulling out as many coins as she could hold in one palm. Methodically, she shoved the coins into the machine and pressed number after number after number, each time collecting her change and then inserting it again until all her money was gone.
She sank to the floor on her knees and pushed open the door at the bottom of the machine. She pulled out two candy bars, a bag of potato chips, a bag of pretzels, and a package of cookies.
Lindsay ripped open the cookies first and shoved three into her mouth, then tore open the wrapper of a Hershey bar and broke off two squares, inserting them into the gaping hole in her face.
She gulped down the first two bites and, once she had regained her full consciousness, began chewing slowly, savoring the sugary fat-filled morsels. All she could think about was food, food, and more food.
"Oh, man," Lindsay moaned with a full mouth. "Oh, God. I love this machine. I love food. I am so never going on a diet again."
That night she settled in front of the TV with a half pint of ice cream and ate the whole thing.
Watching from the kitchen, Jean smiled at her daughter and shook her head. "Girls."