A drone flew overhead the house and hunger gnawed at my thin frame. It was a matter of instinct— the primal kind. So I whipped out some bacon from the fridge and a pan from the cabinet. I wondered where the organic eggs were, but I supposed they were stolen by the goose people. I should really buy a gun to prevent these burglaries from happening.
They are all too frequent.
Gas erupted from the stove, then it evolved into fire. The heat began to warm the bottom of the pan. I carefully laid out the juicy strips of bacon, which instantly popped and sizzled. There was no other way to describe it, the smell was godly. I squinted at the foam, noticing a small shape curdling inside. This shape grew into something more tangible, more familiar. A lithe woman seeped out of the bubbles, growing at an incredibly fast pace. She slipped and fell to the kitchen floor with a wet smack.
My heart fluttered and I dropped down to my knees, dish towel draped over my right shoulder, “I will love you till the day I die” I said. Not a moment later, I got busy gnawing away at her thick juicy thigh.
She grabbed a piece of bacon right off the stove and bit into it. “This is great stuff” she said in between bites.
Her eyes leaked crusty grease that shimmered in the sunlight. The best invention of mankind. Next to bacon, of course. Immediately, I licked her left eye. In response to my licking, the bacon woman moaned in absolute ecstasy.
“You like that don’t you?” I asked.
She nodded her beautiful head.
I grabbed her hand and led her into the basement. She was like a newborn tasting and feeling everything for the first time. Wonder dripped from her armpits.
I got down on my hands and knees and began peeling away the floorboards until my hands were ragged and bloody. I plunged my hands into the darkness beneath and pulled out a dirty sloth that wrapped its arms around my neck and whispered sweet nothings into my ear.
In the corner was a cedar casket. I forgot who it belonged to, perhaps Gandhi. We made our way in, carefully, feet first followed by the head. The sloth crawled off my back and scrambled away to some branch in the dark jungle that lay beside us. Nonetheless, I laid down all comfortable like and the bacon woman wrapped her delicious body around mine. I felt her grease seep through my hand-spun tweed suit and fill the spaces around us.
Someone knocked at the basement door. Pans and glass clattered in the kitchen. Whoever was in my house was making quite a racket.
“Please make them stop,” I pleaded. “They’re disturbing my rest.”
“Hush now. Don’t worry about them.” She closed my eyes shut. “The goose people are going into withdrawals. They need bacon. The whole goddamn world needs bacon.”
As she spoke I overdosed on bacon, frothing at the mouth with agape love and awe.
(Story Notes: This story was previously published in 2010 at Weirdyear, which is sadly a dead website. It’s out of print and was conceived during my bizarro era. I really enjoyed bacon at this time and the concept of agape love.)