Cannibal Moms and Keratin Class

Sitting in the library trying to have a thought and possibly keep my job:
The Tiny Human’s pencil taps on the table. Her coat makes sharp cuts in my mind. I am pulled from the words behind my eyes. Her coat is like lightning. It blinds my thoughts. She asks me a question. I just need five more minutes to finish my paper. “Let mommy have her brain for a minute.” She’s understanding, as usual.
My right is suddenly aware of a high pitched house wife. I imagine she has escaped from her gated community to bring her child to the library. With excuses like, “he needs to do research honey.” She is chatting with a friend. Her child is no where to be seen. I assume he is playing a game in some corner. “Research.” She is going on about making soup. I catch parts of the conversation. “It’s great for colds and your skin.”
“But can’t you taste the bone?”
“If you let it cook long enough, no. You can’t taste the bones at all. And I put so many in there! My secret is to leave some meat on there.”

I imagine they are eating people. Casually talking about it. As if it is so taboo that anyone overhearing them would never imagine they are discussing cannibalism.
“What do you do with the organs?”
“I put them in my energy shakes. All you have to do is steam them. Then throw them in the ninja with some fruit. That’s how I get my hair so shiny!”

I can see her around the corner. Her hair is shiny. It looks almost wet. Like she has just gotten a keratin treatment. I think about that woman in the mall handing out free samples.

No thanks. I like my hair the way it is.

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