Digesting the Elephant in the Room

by Trista Hurley-Waxali

Digesting the Elephant in the Room - Fiction

            “Can you really trust that it wouldn’t eat the rest of you?”

            “Well yeah they’re trained, you see they stay in the body for long enough to eat out all your pesky fat and then they’re removed when completed,” says ombre blonde.

            “But what if they make a mistake?”

            “Then they get terminated and the others learn not to make that mistake,” says the blonde with waves.

            “I don’t know, any creature that can have enough understanding to learn through the deaths of others will also have the clarity that they’re being used.” I say.

            “Wow, do you hear yourself? They’re just sacamantecas.”


            Ombre blonde spreads her arms and reaches up. Her midriff shows without an ounce of fat. She smiles with pride almost like she herself removed the fat. She takes a slice of triple cream brie and add some fruit jam that smells like molasses.

            “You do look amazing,” I respond, suddenly hesitant to add another spoonful of jam.

            “I can recommend you my guy,” says ombre blonde. She devours a couple slices of salami, “the whole process takes about an afternoon and depending on the meds you might not feel up to having dinner.”

            “It’s a win-win!” says blonde with waves.


            Their lack of concern for the sacamantecas banding together in the lab to put a stop to being pawns for pride, is not all that surprising. In their minds the creatures have a vested interest to keep them happy. Where they can live in a safe place with a constant supply of food while performing a service that they’re characterized for outside the lab. To the blondes, this is an ideal exchange. Yet to me, something doesn’t feel right. We’re treating the creatures as workers and not letting them roam as they wish. Although I would like to take the high road on this one, I can’t help but want a small waistline with little effort.


            “You okay?” says ombre blonde, “you look a little dazed.”
            “You know what,” I say, “I’ll take the number of your sacamantecas.”

            “Wonderful,” says blonde with waves, “cheers to indulgence.”


Trista Hurley-Waxali

Trista Hurley-Waxali is an immigrant from Toronto, who finally listened to her parents advice and moved South. She has performed at Avenue 50, Stories Bookstore and internationally at O’bheal in Ireland and for Helsinki Poetry Connection. She writes weird short stories and is working on her novel, At This Juncture.