Simon smiled, "Pass the meat, please." The demonic grin on his frail face lit his mother's eyes. Their bond, if it can be called such a thing, had been questionable ever since the incident. "Mom!" Simon roared. He slammed his shivering fists on the table, demanding a still-bleeding slab. Krystin slid the plate over with a smirk. Judging by the boy's behavior it wouldn't be long now.
She sat back, crossing her arms, admiring Simon's enthusiasm for flesh. He would occasionally call Kristyn by her first name or flat out insult her in public, but the reward far exceeded the price, in Krystin's eyes. Despite the yellowing of his skin, frequent feral chatter and her intentions, Simon was still Krytin's baby. Try as she might, disciplining the poor boy felt like mockery of his existence. She wouldn’t succeed even if she tried. Simon’s father was god.
Simon expectantly stared Krystin down. "More meat, mom! Now!" He pounded his fists on the table.
"Just a second, honey," Kristyn said. Her arms quivered as she passed a bowl of medium-rare slabs. Like any other family on McClellan Blvd, the Wagners had a four-bedroom, two-story home with an attached garage, driveway, perfect lawn, and two-acre backyard fenced by stone walls. Unlike every other family, they did their shopping on the streets: 24-hour gyms, rural homes, and quiet neighborhoods. Ironically, Kristyn became a vegetarian to feed Simon for the remainder of his existence.
"What's worse?" she had always asked herself, "A dead child, or never tasting food?"
Simon snatched a bloody chunk with his bare hands. It was lean, but juicy. His teeth tore through the meat. Krystin smiled. She reflected on when jaundice had claimed her husband. His love for his fellow man is what sparked Krystin’s idea to immortalize Darrell. The blood on Simon’s face was confirmation that his father never left.
It's Simon's world. Krystin's just living in it. That is, until she can have the most tender, mouth-watering set of ribs this side of the Mason-Dixon.
Let's suppose you land your dream job.
Imagine that you spend up to 12 hours a day working.
Your efforts have the effect you've always known they would:
People love you, and more importantly, they love that you do what you do because you're great at it.
You make a difference in countless lives one way or another.
You found your passion, your purpose, and your happiness.
Naturally, your heart would implode if you did anything else, right?
You continue to pound the pavement day in and day out because there's nothing more rewarding than what you do.
However, there's a catch!
Your efforts, loved and appreciated as they be:
Don't allow you to afford getting to and from work
Don't allow you to keep your internet functioning
Don't allow you to pay your cellphone bill
Don't allow you to keep your refrigerator running
Don't allow you to settle your hungry stomach
Don't allow you to bathe with hot water
The question then becomes: Would you continue doing your dream job?
But, wait! what about all of the people you affect? What about all of your accomplishments? What about your happiness?
I illustrate, write, and edit ALL of the AMAZING BNRM content by myself. I also run this AWESOME website, every page, and social media account by myself.
I don't know what you can afford.
I do know how to entertain you.
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What membership includes:
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Like "Krystin's Hunger"?
Your support will satisfy Krystin's cravings!
*Spoiler: No, it won't. ( -_-)*
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