Hungry: Part I

"Were we ever friends, or just hungry at the same time?"

Jim was always direct. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere. Jim should have died months ago when zinc toxicity ended his competitive eating career moments after beating me for the sixth straight year at Oscar’s Ohioan Oyster Overeater Occasion. He had so much zinc in his system, his pissed galvanized. But here he was sitting across from me in Enid Kansas at Hattie’s Hairnet, a popular local spot often frequented by truckers and drifters.

“Friends?”, I asked. “No, never friends. We've been in competition for years of which I have always been on losing end. Oh... and you ruined my marriage”. I’ve always been a bit dramatic.

“Don’t be a drama queen”, Jim scoffed. “I didn’t shuck your oyster, I didn’t pucker your lips, and I damn for sure, never slept with your wife. You lost to me six times, fair and square. Besides, you really want all this?”, he said as he gestured wildly and generally over his whole body.

Pancakes. I came here for pancakes…