Chapter 4 - the hungry humanoids

I explained to my father what had been happening the last five months. When the Kanamits had fully integrated themselves into society, he cut off all forms of communication to the outside world and hadn't left the property since, so there was a lot he needed to be filled in on. He grew his own food, pumped his own water, and made his own energy; so he had no need to go anywhere or talk to anyone. When I was done talking, he stood up and gave me a stiff smack to the back of the head. He started chastising me for being foolish enough to trust the aliens and fall into their trap. I couldn't argue with him. I had been stupid to take them at face value. I thought that being more open and trusting would make me a better person. A happier person. Now I was fat and panicked, having to run home to my daddy to fix things like I was a little girl again. Needless to say, my resolution had backfired.

I sat on the couch, too ample for the old wooden chairs that filled the kitchen and dining room. Even then, I took up way more of my wide seat than I was expecting and the slight creaking I heard when I lowered my titanic rear onto the cushions was more than a little disconcerting. After chewing me out, my father walked into the kitchen for some refreshments. Looking around, waiting for him to pour his whiskey and roll his cigarette before rejoining the conversation, I saw that the place had pretty much been frozen in time from when I left for college. Pictures of my graduation, my birthdays, me at junior prom. It was like a time capsule for my life.

I wondered what the wall would look like from now on, years down the line. A picture of me at my wedding, too fat to walk down the aisle. The birth of my first child where no one would even be able to tell I was pregnant. The anniversary when I was finally too heavy to get out of bed. Would I even be here long enough to live those milestones?

I told him about my concerns and the breeding stock theory when he finally sat back down. He told me that it was ridiculous and didn't make any sense. Even though my father was a crazy redneck, he was one of the smartest people I knew. What he lacked in book smarts, he made up for with sound reasoning and classic common sense. While his acute paranoia didn't make him many friends, it had served him well for all these years and I had faith his intuition.

"So if their not fattening us to breed, then what are they doing it for?", I asked him after he bluntly dismissed my theory.

"Isn't it obvious?", he said while casually taking a drag off his cigarette. "They're fattening y'all up to eat ya".

My jaw dropped when he said it. I hadn't even thought about it being a possibility, but it made so much sense. He acted so nonchalant saying it, like it was the most logical thing in the world. Had he known the entire time?

"Why do you say that?", I had to ask.

"It's simple farming technique. They're fattening the hogs up for slaughter. Keeping y'all so full and content that you don't even realize you're eating your way into an early grave.", he said with a sip of his drink.

Once the idea of them planning to eat us settled in, I found it hard to dispute. But I wanted to be sure he was right on this one. "Cannibalism is a bit of a leap from helping people, isn't it?", I said without much conviction.

"It's not cannibalism. They're not human. Them eating us is no different than us eating pigs or cows or chickens. We ain't nothing but meat to them", he said with that classic country cool of his. It's the same way he used talked when I was young and he'd tell me about fluoride being in the water or how the government wanted to take our guns away. "Plus that damn translator done got the meaning of the name wrong on that book. To Serve Man ain't talking bout serving our needs. It's bout serving us for lunch. Blasted thing ain't no study guide. It's a cookbook."