It was dark out, but not in the sense that the sun was obscured by a clouded sky. Ever since humanity had embraced cannibalism, the United States had become a myriad of different shades of muted orange, as if a storm of dust hovered overhead that permanently changed the country’s hue. Grocery stores across all states stood in ravaged ruins, reminders of an age long past, and gutted of everything that held even the smallest sliver of value. Cannibals roamed the streets at all hours and their numbers grew by the day.

All this, except the exact opposite, actually. Rather than having been ransacked, grocery stores were stocked full to the brim from a lack of business and employees were finding themselves emptying shelves of goods that had been there so long that they’d expired. The skies were the crispiest blue ever seen by the human eye, largely due to all of the factories that had shut down because no one wanted the processed GMO garbage that they were making. Oh, but the cannibalism was real. Very, very, insanely real.

It all began with the placenta-eating craze that sprouted up a few years ago. Gbondo Crepe, a college student who was approaching the deadline to complete a job shadow assignment, found the trend fascinating, so he decided to take that fascination and incorporate it into his assignment. And what better person to shadow than his own uncle, Bunion Crepe, Master Organ Merchant at the Main Street Farmers Market.

__________

The Farmers Market was exceptionally busy this morning, what with the state’s big New Organic push gaining momentum along with the release of the 1-800-ORGANIC hotline that folks could call for emergency deliveries. “It’s past time we reclaimed the true meaning of Organic,” one high profile government official had stated in a press conference the week prior. “The term has been inappropriately used for years in the fight to end the use of chemicals and other artificial agents in our food. That fight has run its losing course. But take heart, New Organic will breathe life back into those fighting bones and will win the battle with one simple ideal: organs, and the consumption of all of them in large quantities.”

Riding the wave of that momentum, Bunion Crepe walked laboriously down Main Street with a heavy burlap sack over his shoulder full of fresh organs, leaving a trail of blood droplets in his wake. A knot of people followed closely behind, some dropping to their hands and knees to lap up the drippings. Bunion loved the bustle of the Marketplace, especially around his own stall. As he approached, he saw Gbondo not twenty strides from him. “Gbondo, my boy! How I love to see my favorite nephew!” Bunion exclaimed with enthusiasm as he dropped the burlap sack behind his stall. The sack splushed onto the ground and Bunion’s stall worker immediately got to work readying the organs for purchase.

“Hey, Uncle Bun. Nice to see you too,” Gbondo said with much less enthusiasm. Although excited to learn more about his uncle’s line of work, the educational system always had a way of sucking the life out of anything interesting once it was tagged with an assignment and due date.

“Hah! Sounds like it!” Bunion boomed. One of the contributing factors to Bunion becoming the most successful merchants in the Marketplace was his deep, powerful voice. It simultaneously contained balancing levels of welcoming and authority, which only served to draw more people toward his stall. “Let me teach you a little trick, Gbon. Don’t think about the homework. Treat this as just another day hanging with good ol’ Uncle Bunion. The homework? Doesn’t exist. Got it?”

Gbondo thought for a moment, then his face brightened. “You’re right, I can do that!”

“Excellent! Now, where shall we start?”

“Well, I was hoping you could give me some background into how your stall became so successful. Then, I guess I’ll just think of other questions along the way?”

“Right-o, an astounding plan! Let me tell you the secret to my success. You see all of these people here?” Bunion fanned his arm from left to right, indicating the hundreds of consumers before them. “These are all people that have been convinced, either by others or by themselves, that, firstly, eating human placentas is an acceptable and healthy practice, and secondly, that the practice is decidedly not cannibalistic.”

Gbondo started to speak, but was cut off immediately as Bunion continued. “Why is this important, you ask? The answer is simple: it reveals that these people are willing to eat human body parts, so long as they can shut their minds off to the reality of what they’re eating. Now, those of us that are not numb of skull, know that even though the placenta is not found in all humans at all times, it is still a part of the human body, just as a kidney is. Or a heart. Or a foot.”

Bunion looked at Gbondo to see if he was following and Gbondo nodded his head to confirm that he was.

“People will argue with you, saying that the placenta shouldn’t count as a human body part. It provides nutrients to babies and blah blah blah. Or they’ll say that it’s ok because they encapsulate it and swallow it like a vitamin. Let me ask you, Gbondo.” Bunion gave a deadly look at him square in the eyes. “If you blend a…” he gagged, trying to get the word out, “…sweet potato…does it cease to be a sweet potato? Of course not!” he screamed into the air. “It’s a blended sweet potato, and no one can argue otherwise!” He looked at the nearest people passing by, daring them to disagree with him.

“So what you’re saying is – “ Gbondo managed to get out before Bunion cut him off again.

“I’m saying that the placenta is a gateway organ, Gbon. Once people begin eating it, they become willing to try other parts of the human body. They begin craving other parts, even. I mean, look at all of these stalls. There’s a stall here for every part of the body! There, you have the eyes. And over there are the fingers. It’s insane! You think there’d be an entire market for human body parts without someone first trying one and deciding that the label of ‘cannibal’ wasn’t a deal breaker? You’re a smart kid, I’ll let you answer that one.”

There was a loud commotion a few stalls ahead of them. Someone was flicking toenails into another person’s mouth and the crowd was loving it. Bun and Gbon veered left to avoid it.

“So to bring it back to your question, Gbon, I saw that people are willing to eat human organs as long as they can be convinced that it’s ok to do so. So, what does that process look like? How does one shift from feasting on placentas to gorging themselves on large and small intestines? It’s so, so simple,” Bunion shrugged. “Tell them it’s good for them, and be sure to mention various medical terminology. Tell them that it promotes brain function. Use the terms nutrients and probiotics a lot. Any word that ends in biotics usually works, in fact. You do that, and you’ll have droves of people slurping up those intestines within hours.”

Gbondo finally threw a question out there. “But what about all the factories closing down? The grocery stores? How do those things play into this?”

“That’s also a simple one. Our country eats organs now, and people don’t want anything else. It’s the nature of cannibalism. It’s why you see people scavenging the streets at night looking for weak folks they can eat. They could find everything they need in the grocery store, but they consciously choose to rummage through the alleyways instead.”

Gbondo noticed that the Marketplace traffic was getting heavier with people holding sacks similar to what Bunion had carried to his stall. The smell of the place also hit him hard, now that he was aware of it. Corpses, was the only word that came to mind, and he wondered if he’d soon see scented candles with this smell in the near future.

Bunion had gone silent, which was a little unusual given how much he’d spoken until now. Gbondo seized the opportunity to ask a question he’d been a little nervous about. “Where do the organs come from?”

“People, of course.”

“Right, but where do they…come from?”

Bunion was quiet as they walked toward a ship docked at the port.

After a moment, “Uncle Bun, it’s ok. I can handle the answer.”

“I’m not so sure you can, Gbondo,” Bunion replied as he nodded toward one of the ship’s deckhands. “But you’ll get your answer soon.”

Gbondo was apprehended and dragged onto the deck of the ship and into a dark room. Above the confused screaming and a sudden gust of wind, Bunion shouted, “You’re a smart man, Gbondo! And smart brains are in high demand right now! I want you to know it’s nothing personal! New Organic is the future, and you are my contribution to its cause!”

Bunion knew that Gbondo couldn’t hear him past the first few words, but he said it all anyway, and wondered if perhaps he hadn’t said it for Gbondo’s sake, but for his own. He looked back at the Marketplace, at the crowds of people at each stall, and he shook his head. “All this because some dimwit ate an organ,” he said under his breath.

The Master Organ Merchant issued a deep sigh as he lifted another burlap sack full of dripping pieces of people. Grieving his nephew, but excited about the next phase of New Organic, he tried to convince himself that he’d done the right thing. “At least he doesn’t have to worry about his homework anymore,” he mused as he ventured back into the crowd.