By DiVitto Kelly

“I’m famished," proclaimed Bob Unger, eager to chow down with his wife and two children as they patiently waited to be seated at the restaurant.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” replied the spunky brunette hostess, overhearing the hefty man wearing blue jeans and red checkered flannel shirt. “This way, sir.”

The Home Body Buffet was a favorite dining jaunt for the Unger’s, feasting at the popular restaurant at least once a month. The four sat down at their familiar table stationed near the main buffet spread for easy access.

“Okay kids, you know the drill, take your plates and silverware. And Toby, absolutely no cutting in line,” said Mom to her weeble wobble framed eleven-year-old son. “Last time was embarrassing, jumping in front of that old woman, just for another thigh!”

“Alright, alright, I promise -- sheesh,” said the miffed boy, a mirror image of his old man.

“Alice, please don’t be so finicky this time,” said Mom, addressing her slender daughter. “Your father spends a pretty penny coming here.”

“Yes mommy dearest,” the surly mid teen replied, a Goth replica of her favorite TV show character, Gloomy Gladys.

Three of the four family salivated as they circled the large buffet table like sharks.

“Ooh, look!” said Bob, "fresh CEO, musta got ‘em from the city today.”

Helen passed, preferring a sampling of sports athletes – something lean and trim. She’d been dying to lose twenty pounds, even trying the Adkins diet, but at some point, “You run out of Adkins’,” she blurted out laughing, snorting like a pig.

Bob glanced to his right at a sign and cringed. “Politicians? Man oh man this joint is scraping the bottom of the barrel. Son, stay away from that or you’ll be sitting on the can for a week. I wouldn’t eat ‘em if they were the last living people on earth.”

Alice never ate much, preferring fruit and vegetables. All her friends and their parents were doing it, but her mom insisted. “Dear, if you’re not too hungry try the librarian – they’re low-calorie.”

“Librarian? Ha,” laughed Bob. “Why don’t you just gnaw on a tree limb or something!” Mr. Unger was in fine comedic form. A full time comic, Unger literally killed his audience.

“Maybe if you’d stop chomping down on those slow-moving Wal-Mart types Dad you wouldn’t be such a porker,” said Alice, always aimed and ready with a verbal barb.

“Hey, I’m in good shape, kinda,” he said as looked down at his protruding gut.

“Well, I’m going to change my diet – no more people!” boasted Alice, an independent thinker, never shying away from an opinion. Both parents were hoping no one else overheard their daughter.

“Sorry folks; our daughter’s a bit under the weather,” said Mom, sporting a half-hearted smile.

“Son, I wanna test out a new joke -- actually it’s an old joke but with a new take.”

Toby shrugged, preferring to fill up his garbage can lid of a plate. He never laughed at his dad’s jokes. “Okay Pops, spill your guts.”

“Hey, I like that; mind if I use it tomorrow night at the Fryers Club?”

“Sure, why not,” Toby added, drolly.

“Okay, a horse walks into a bar.” His son was already rolling his eyes. “Hang in there, son, okay? Now, where was I? Oh, a horse saunters into a drinking establishment. The bartender says, ‘Hey, why the long face?

“Come on Dad.”

“The horse replies, ‘Cause my wife was just turned into glue! Haaaaa!”

A single mother, properly dressed, gasped. “Sir, that was in absolutely poor taste!” She proceeded to select a healthy looking forearm for her son and stormed off.

Seeing the restaurant completely full, the always effervescent Mr. Unger called out, “You know why cannibals don’t eat clowns? ‘Cause they taste funny! Haaaaa!” The whole place erupted in groans.

“Why does he have to do that lame joke all the time; it’s so embarrassing,” quipped Alice.

“You’ve only experienced it for a few years dear, try twenty-five,” shrugged Mom.

The Unger family filled their plates and returned to the table. Alice stuck with a large salad and some finger food. Toby dug into his plateful of organs. Mom dined on biceps and triceps while dad chomped down on a teacher, hoping it would make him smarter.

“You know it never used to be this way,” said Alice, well mannered as she finished off her healthy meal. People used to eat regular foods; fruits, grains, chicken and beef.

“That was two hundred years ago dear,” said Mom. “You should know from history – how viruses wiped out the food supply all over Earth. And the fish, they got smart and swam into deeper waters, unable to be caught. In desperation, people turned on each other, and in due time, we liked it.”

“I heard it was because humans were so filled up with preservatives and chemicals it was the only thing still fresh to eat,” joked Dad. “It was fat people who were eaten first – those couch potatoes never had a chance.”

“I read people used to eat barbecued ribs . . . from pigs!” added Mom.

“What’s a pig?” asked Toby.

“Dad,” Alice answered, coldly.

“So what are you saying, we start grazing on our front lawns?” asked Dad. “Maybe pour some thousand island dressing and sprinkle a few croutons on our fine Kentucky bluegrass? Ridicules!”

“Try this?” said Alice. She took out a small plastic container from her cute panda shaped backpack and handed it to her dad.

Dad opened it, grimacing at the tan object. It had a crusty texture, still warm. “What is it?”

“Just give try it Dad. You’re not scared, are you?”

“I’m not scared of nothing, except your mother when she’s really upset at me. Okay, okay.” He took the object and bit into it. His eyes lit up in approval and he continued munching. “Wow! What is this?”

“Chicken,” said Alice. “For my school project, I was able recreate a few farm animals from recently discovered DNA. Actually, my best friend’s dad is a research scientist and he helped us. We've got chickens, a pig, two goats, and a cow. They’re all secretly stored at the abandoned barn behind our house.”

“I think I’m in love with chicken,” drooled Dad. “You got any more?”

“Yep, at home. We’re going to expand the project so we don’t have to eat people anymore. Aren't you getting tired of chasing the postal worker for breakfast, or preying on my teachers? We can’t find a decent substitute anymore. And besides, it’s messy too.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” replied Dad. “You really think we can all survive on this?” He eyed the chicken leg bone, cleanly stripped of all the meat.

“Oh yeah,” Alice replied emphatically. Toby was barely paying attention, munching down on liver.

“Well, good for you!” said Mom, proud of her honor roll daughter. “Always the smart one.” Alice smiled.

“Well, let’s blow this Popsicle stand and eat chicken!” boasted Dad. He paid the bill and the family of four headed outside.

“I think this is a good time to put the top down, don’t you think?” asked Dad, proud of his hundred year old blood red convertible.

“Maybe we shouldn't,” said their daughter.

“Ah, it’s perfect out honey, and besides, I feel like we've all been reborn or something. We’re swearing off people!”

The family of four blissfully drove in and around the neighborhood, enjoying the crisp spring evening air before stopping at a red light. From behind, a gang of famished cannibal thugs jumped the Unger family, devouring them like a school of piranhas. They left nothing but the bones.