Sex and Murder Magazine

By TK Turner

He tightened his fist around the handle of his briefcase, squishing the soft leather into his palm so loudly that both parents flinched. He did not smile or speak but only stared at them with hollow, black orbs for eyes.

“But…we were told someone would be coming next Friday at the earliest.” The husband smiled as convincingly as he could, but already his cheeks were flushed bright pink and sweat trickled down his forehead. “Surely, there must be a mistake?”

“I don’t make mistakes.”

The man’s wife stepped into his path before he could get through the doorway, but he shouldered past her feeble blockade and marched into their house and up the stairs with his briefcase.

“No, don’t go up there! He’s not there!” she wailed behind him.

The inspector ignored them both and threw open the only door at the end of the narrow hallway.

Eyeing the crib in the corner of the room, he knelt upon the threadbare rug and unlocked his briefcase. As he sorted his instruments, the frantic pair rejoined him upstairs outside the child’s door.

“What are you going to do?” the wife demanded, but the inspector said nothing and only rummaged through his briefcase. “How long is this going to take? You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

Wordlessly, he approached the pink lump of flesh babbling on its pillow. The mother winced and started toward her child, but her husband quickly tugged her back. “No,” his voice shook in, “let the man do his job.” And only then did she relent.

Unlike the wilting, starving bodies of his parents, excess blubber curdled the toddler’s limbs and torso. Fat stretched his skin to the peak of its elasticity, rendering it tight and pink from the visible capillaries and scorched stretch marks. Crushed beneath the weight of his own fat, the child could barely twist his head around to glare at the unwelcome intrusion. He emitted an affronted squawk, but his parents only held their breaths as the inspector laid him flat on his back and began the examination.

Swollen, purple fists punched the air. He cried softly at first, but gradually worked himself into a red-faced, ear-splitting scream.

His parents remained silent by the door as the inspector proceeded to measure, weigh, and scrape the surface of the toddler’s blistering cheek with a sharp pick. Once finished, he injected the stinking mounds of flesh with a concoction of growth hormones and steroids, gave a seemingly satisfied grunt, and replaced his tools back in his briefcase. “The inspection is over.”

The mother visibly relaxed but when she spoke she sounded skeptical. “Is that all?”

He snapped his briefcase shut. “In two weeks, another inspector will call upon you.” He didn’t look back at them as he made his way down the staircase and back to the front door. The child’s piercing shrieks accompanied all three adults out of the room.

“Why?” The husband followed after his heels. “I thought once he passed his inspection the state would leave us alone.”

Doorknob in hand, the inspector paused before turning it. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir.”

“How so?” Fear returned in the woman’s voice. “What more do you want from us? We followed the state’s feeding regimen as required!”

He smiled, curling his top lip over his teeth in what looked like a snarl. “Yes,” he replied matter-of-factly, “and I believe the child is more than fat enough for slaughter now.”

“Slaughter?”

He pulled the door open and stepped into the cold, damp air. When he faced them again, both parents were gaping at him with their mouths open in shock. “Parents are usually squeamish about their first child—they skimp on food or deliberately poison the livestock so the meat will be unsafe for consumption…but you two did a remarkable job.” He admired the pair in silence for a moment and then reached out and shook the husband’s hand.

“Congratulations to the both of you. You’ve raised a fine child. He’ll fetch a hefty sum for sure.” He then smiled at the woman’s whitened face. “Don’t look so worried, Ma’am, a child that big will easily feed a hungry family of four…maybe six.”

“But if we had known…”

“It should’ve been obvious to you when you received your stipend. The state no longer notifies new parents to prevent contamination of the rations.”

They both blinked in confusion. Already, the woman’s complexion was turning green. “So all of our rations are…?”

“Of course.” The inspector faced them again with a bemused smile. “Where else did you think your meat was coming from? Cows?”