THE EPIDEMIC

I knew it when I met him. I knew it when I started dating him. I

knew it when I married him. To make it short, I always knew it. And it

never bothered me anyway.

Over the years I've tried to make him eat healthy food, such as

fruit and vegetables.

– If you want to binge, eat good stuff at least, – I spurred him on.

He turned a deaf ear to it though.

Chuck goes crazy for junk food.

You don't need to be Einstein to understand how he reached 485

pounds in less than ten years.

Chuck struggles to move, he can't drive, he can't even wash

himself. Now I'm his wet nurse. We tried with surgery, but he started

binging again.

– I'm afraid I'll starve, – he said.

There I went nuts; I went to the backyard, I took a shovel and

delivered blows here and there. I smashed it on the ground, on the

flowerpots, on the table. Everywhere.

Chuck's hunger is out of control, it's a true obsession. It haunts his

mind every bloody day of his bloody life. Today's not going to be

different. Here I am in the kitchen cooking his breakfast: chocolate

pancakes soaked in chocolate syrup and sprinkled with chocolate

chips.

I turn on the TV seeking some company and right away I realize

there's something wrong.

All the TV stations are airing non-stop newscasts. They're crying

havoc. A mysterious epidemic is spreading fast around the area. Just

like in a horror movie, they recommend to stay inside in order to avoid

any kind of infection.

I badly put the pancakes on the plate and go upstairs to bring them

to Chuck. He's lying on the bed as usual.

– Chuck! – I shout while I'm climbing up. – Chuck! Did you get

it?

– What? What happened, Alma? Oh! Here they are, my pancakes,

– he says relieved.

– They say there's a lethal epidemic around here. If infected, you

die. We have to stay locked inside.

– What? For how long? Oh my God! And what 'bout food?

– They didn't say how long it'll last. The cellar is full, we have

enough supplies. Thank the coupons that allow me to satisfy your

hunger!

Three weeks pass; the quarantine goes on.

I can't stand my husband anymore. He's in constant need of food, I

want to kill him. I'm not kidding.

– I can't take it anymore, – he mumbles from the couch, sweaty

like a pig.

– Me neither. And, I'm sorry to say, our supplies are over. Only

fruit left.

– What? WHAT? – he suddenly pulls himself together. – I'm

gonna starve! Do something, Alma! – Chuck freaks out.

– What do you want me to do! – I burst out irritated. – They'll help

us, we just need to wait.

He gives me the evil eye, then goes back to the old movie on TV.

Now Chuck sleeps and finally I can rest. I've been spending my

nights on the couch for months, he has taken up the whole bed. Dopey,

I see through the dark a huge shadow hanging over me.

– I need to eat... gimme food, you stupid woman! – Chuck

threatens me in a fury as he holds tight the poker. I never saw him like

this.

Frightened, I decide to pander to him. I go to the kitchen and come

back with some apples, which I offer him.

– I don't like fruit! – he grunts fiercely.

Scared, I let the apples fall down, while I fall back. As he licks his

lips, he comes closer ready to hit me.