“Well, sure, and we’d all be well-endowed, have six-pack abs, high-paying jobs, and perfect teeth. We’d all go on quirky adventures, and in the end, everything would turn out right because that’s the way it should be.”
“I’m well-endowed,” I say.
Kori snorts. “Above average, I’d say.”
“I think I had an ab. Once.”
“Most likely a bout of gas, darling.”
“I’ll have a high-paying job.”
“Mired under piles of mounting credit-card debt.”
“Perfect teeth?”
“You’ve got that one crooked one that is so very endearing, but doesn’t know if it’s coming or going.”
“We’re going on a quirky adventure right now,” I conclude.
Kori sighs. “Dragging me to a protest over a new restaurant is not what I would consider quirky.”
“There’ll be hippies,” I say, as if hippies make everything better. In truth, they were the only ones who responded to my post on the underground vegetarian message boards I’m a part of. The group (one of many, I assure you) is called Don’t Eat Animals, Dammit! or DEAD! for short. I know. It’s the most ridiculous name in the history of activism. But they’re the only ones this far west.
“If you think hippies are supposed to be a bargaining chip,” she tells me, “then you seriously need to work on your negotiating tactics. I chipped a nail making your hilarious protest signs.”
“Hilarious? They’re not supposed to be hilarious! They’re supposed to be serious!”
She laughs. “Okay, sure. Keep telling yourself that. I’m sure carrying a sign that says ‘Do You Want A Side Of Lies With Your Burger?’ is meant to be taken with a straight face.”
“That’s not funny! It’s a clever play on words that brings to light the injustice of beef farming that plagues this country! You’re being force fed untruths on a daily basis. The beef industry wants you to believe that—”
“Tyson.”
“What!”
“Have you ever asked yourself why God made cows so delicious if we weren’t supposed to eat them?”
“God? God? God had nothing to do with cows! Bovines are naturally evolved, just like everything else on this planet.” I shake my head. “God. Santa’s not real, either, in case you were wondering.”
“Naturally evolved, huh? So the way they are now is the way they were meant to be?”
“Exactly.”
She nods and her scarf flutters in the sea breeze. “Well, then, they naturally evolved to taste great with ketchup, so I guess that’s one thing.”
“It’s only because you’ve been conditioned to think so. You were just raised to believe that was okay.”
“Oh, careful, Ty,” she teases me. “That’s what the conservatives say about the gays. Pretty soon, you’ll be sending me off to a conversion camp where I’ll have to pray to beat the meat.”
“You’re impossible!”
“Which you only say when you can’t think of any kind of comeback.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Not for another month,” she says. “You’re stuck with me for now. And I’m going to eat sausage in front of you. So very, very slowly.” She licks her glossy lips, a sweet, little swipe of her tongue.
“I’m driving.”