What to Expect When You Can’t Remember a Meat

Drew warned me about the strange hunger pangs I’d have, but I didn’t think this was what she meant. She’d had three children.

I only wanted one, but it looks like I’m getting two. It’s twins for me. Identical, at least that’s what they think. How can they know any of this? The sonogram faces look like unshaped hunks of clay.

A vague hunger arose in my body. Some meat I’d eaten at some point in my past, veiled in layers of mist.

Vienna sausages?

Braunschweiger?

Fried bologna?

Potted food meat product?

I tried all of these, and while they tasted good, they weren’t what I had in mind. The more failures I had in identifying the mystery meat, the stronger my cravings grew.

I spent hours browsing in every delicatessen in town. I taste-tested meat after meat. Nothing. While they all tasted okay, none of them were what my body craved.

Then I remembered SPAM. How did I forget SPAM?

The stores weren’t open yet, but I was sure the mystery flavor that had beckoned me so intensely for weeks had to be SPAM. I peeked out my front window. My neighbor hadn’t left yet for his job in the city.

I whispered a prayer to the God or Goddess of SPAM and set off for my neighbor’s house.

I heard the morning traffic on the interstate just beyond the hills beyond our subdivision.

I rang the bell.

“Just a minute,” Collin said from deep inside his house.

“Hullo.” He said, his eyes playing catch up with where he knows me.

“Oh. You’re the new neighbor. Please come in.”

“This may sound crazy, but I’d kill for a can of SPAM. Do you happen to have any on hand? Oh, please make my day and say yes, Collin.”

“Well, this is awkward. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“I’m Christina,” I said, extending my hand.

Collin took my hand in his, and electricity surged through my veins. My hunger before was vague, hovering around a level 7 out of 10.

With that one touch, my hunger soared to about 9.9.

At last, I realized what my mystery meat was. It sure as hell wasn’t SPAM!

I studied the pores on Collin’s face. My eyes tracked a bead of sweat rolling down his chiseled chin. I was sure Collin wouldn’t survive my impulsive little snack.

I was right. He didn’t. He put up a good fight. For a while. A preternatural strength fell upon me, endowing me with speed and stamina.

I was shocked at how easy it was for me to ignore his pleas for mercy. A part of me I’d never known took over. The new me laughed at Collin’s attempts at bargaining. But even she recoiled at the mess we made in his pristine, white kitchen.

The good news was I identified my craving and indulged in it until Colling grew still. When his whimpering stopped, the taste changed. It wasn’t as good after that. I was only three months pregnant, and I worried about this development.

Will I be eating like this every day for the next six months?

Originally published at http://storiesbyshawn.com on December 22, 2023.