Until We Meat Again by Michael Dell It was one of those things you just had to do. Every year the city bigwigs held a charity dinner the week before Thanksgiving. An immense ballroom was rented, all the guests donned evening gowns and black ties, the table settings were needlessly ostentatious, and the portions were awfully small considering the plate fee. But it was for charity. Honest. It had nothing to do with rich people wanting to show how rich they were. It was all for charity. Anyway, I always ended up going. My father is a rather prominent attorney around these parts. And with an eye towards political advancement, the gala event was a brilliant red circle on the calendar. His attendance each year, along with his wonderful family, was a foregone conclusion. I couldn't stand it. The whole crowd made me sick. But what could I do? He's my father. Sometimes you have to do some things. Plus, you know, they usually had an open bar. I hadn't seen my parents in a couple months. Visits grew less and less frequent once I moved to the suburbs. I was supposed to meet them at the dinner promptly at eight. My brother and sister would both be there. So would their respective spouses. But I'm sure the empty chair next to me wouldn't be humiliating at all. I was praying for a flat tire. A dead battery. Anything. That bar better be open when I get there. Despite my best efforts, I still managed to arrive early. Inherent punctuality can be a curse. For three years running, the dinner has been held at the Worshire Hotel. I don't know what they charge for a room, but I can almost guarantee it's more than I make in a month. I parked around the corner. My car wasn't exactly worthy of valet parking. The crowd was starting to gather out front. It always surprised me how many women still wore fur. They were all smiling and laughing, their jewels gleaming with electric light. As per usual, all the men seemed remarkably at ease in their newly pressed tuxedos. I hadn't worn mine since the last dinner. It felt stiff. I probably should have had it cleaned. Oh well. I pulled my overcoat tight and waited for everyone else to get inside before moving to follow. I was thinking what I'd drink first. Whatever it was, it was going to be a double. The decorating committee certainly didn't spare any expense. The lobby was festooned with golden ribbons and silver balloons. Real classy. People were everywhere. Throw a rock hit an heiress. I knew the ballroom itself would be even worse. Laughter and small talk assaulted me from all angles. I tried to find a quiet corner somewhere to catch my breath. It wasn't easy. I slipped beside a giant potted plant, which at least protected me on one flank. This night was going to be brutal. All these bodies with so little to say. A maze of human insignificance and green folding paper. I began to wonder if twenty- seven years of paternal love and protection were worth the torment. That's when I saw a familiar face. At least I thought it was a familiar face. I almost didn't recognize it without the three-day stubble and tousled hair. But there was no mistaking those sad, thoughtful eyes and the misanthropic posture. Forgetting the unpleasant surroundings, I immediately cut a path to my old friend. The thought of him in a tuxedo would have normally been enough to send me into fits of convulsive laughter. A smile broke across my face. It was so funny seeing him dressed up like that. I don't think I'd ever seen him in anything but jeans and flannel shirts. I couldn't reach him fast enough. He was tugging at the collar of his shirt as I approached. Finally, someone more out of place than myself! "Spook!" Startled, he snapped to attention and began looking in every direction at once. Hearing his old nickname in this lot must have been alarming. We used to call him Spook because of his pale color and frail nature. Although some would argue it was due to his frightful way of thinking. He caught sight of me and extended a welcoming hand. "Hey, Franky." He spoke with all the volume of an afterthought. "How the hell are ya, Spook my boy?" His handshake was as delicate as ever. He was always so thin. "Can't complain." "I almost didn't recognize you. I don't think I've ever seen you dressed up all fancy like." He smiled nervously. "Yeah, well, what can ya do?" Spook was never one for social gatherings. He used to always sit off in a corner by himself whenever the old gang used to throw a party. You'd look over in the midst of all the noise and whatnot and he'd just be sitting there reading a book. He was always reading something. I wouldn't have been surprised at all to see the works of Goethe sticking out of his tuxedo pocket. For not being accustomed to such fine threads, Spook wore the monkey suit well. It kind of draped off his thin shoulders, giving him a casual yet refined appearance. Combine that with his slicked-back hair, perfectly combed I might add, and he could have walked right off the pages of a Fitzgerald novel. It would only be to those of us who knew him that Spook's appearance would seem riotously funny. "I didn't expect to see you here," I smiled. "I mean, I have to be here, but I thought you would know better." "You'd think so, wouldn't ya?" At least the night wouldn't be a total loss. With Spook to keep me company, I was sure to have an interesting time. I loved talking with him. He was an incredible intellect. And self-taught, too. He never went to college yet he was schooled on any number of subjects. Art, history, literature, philosophy, politics, religion; you name it and Spook would set you straight. "So what are you doing here? This is hardly your type of crowd." I caught myself. I didn't want to sound like Spook had no business being around the wealthy, even though I had never known him to have more than five dollars on his person at any one time. He hardly ever worked, and when he did he only held the job long enough to drop it. "At least I didn't think to find you at such a celebration of meat eating. There's going to be lots of dead turkeys inside." "I'm no longer vegan," stated Spook matter-of-factly. "What?" This was banner headline material. "When'd this happen?" "A couple months ago." "Wow, I'm stunned. I never thought I'd see you eating flesh. Why the change of heart?" "Every man needs to change. A man without change is living in the past. Constant change is the only proven method of progress." Spook sometimes had a knack for sounding like a fortune cookie. But the importance of this dietary shift cannot be exaggerated. To say Spook was stubborn was an understatement. He had always been a man of conviction. Once he made up his mind on something, forget it. He wasn't going to change his opinion. In fact, he'd usually convert you to his way of thinking by means of argument that a normal person couldn't hope to understand. Yet you'd always agree if for no other reason than to allow yourself to feel smarter. "I can't believe it. So you're actually going to sit down tonight and eat a traditional turkey dinner?" "Yes." "Amazing. What about red meat? You eating the red meat?" "On occasion." "And fish?" "Yes. It's very high in protein." "Dairy?" "No. Too much fat." "I remember you once told me you'd rather die than eat meat again." "I said that?" "Yes!" "You sure?" "Positive." "It doesn't sound like me." "Nothing has ever been spoken that sounded more like you!" "Hmm, well, what can I say? Things change." "Apparently. You used to tell me that eating meat was savage." "Very much so. That hasn't changed. But maybe it's time I become a savage. Maybe I want to be a savage. Sit around the ol' campfire with my cave man brethren and gnaw the flesh from bone. Gain strength by eating the muscle of other living things. I seek to improve my mind every day, shouldn't I likewise do whatever possible to strengthen my body as well? Savagery has its advantages. If you're not careful I might slice a steak from your hide." "You can understand my surprise, right? It's just hard picturing you eating meat, harder even than seeing you in a tux. It's just your vegetarian beliefs were a large part of who you were." "No man should be a slave to any set of rules or beliefs. A man must stand alone. At its core, vegetarianism is no different than a religion. How could I mock those that worship an imaginary man in the sky while I refuse to eat a chicken sandwich solely because of loyalty to some self-imposed doctrine? And have you ever been around any strict vegetarians?" "You." "Yeah, but I never preached it did I?" "No, I must say you didn't. You always held your tongue when the rest of us were having hamburgers and the like." "That's because it was your choice. I didn't have the right to force my beliefs upon you. All I could do was set an example. But some people are fanatics about it. It's all foolishness. In an infinite universe, what's the difference what one human ingests? As if there's special credit earned by being labeled a vegetarian. At first I liked it because it set me further apart from others. But it's all the same. Everything's the same. Who cares?" "So you no longer have any compassion for our furry little friends? What about the cruelty to animals bit?" "Hey, things are tough all over." "No guilt at all?" "Don't kid yourself. Those little bastards would do the same thing to us if they had a chance. We're all animals, Franky. It's just humans disguise it by wearing pants. Or by inventing things, like vegetarianism, to make us feel better about ourselves." "What about your whole evolution theory?" "That will probably still hold true. I'm sure five hundred years from now humans, or what will pass for humans, will no longer eat meat. Perhaps we'll all advance to that enlightened way of thinking." "Hold it, so you're admitting that vegetarianism is an enlightened way of thinking?" "Of course it is. Blood lust is nothing if not a base, animalistic urge. But is it my fault I was ahead of the evolutionary curve? Should I be punished because I was born five hundred years too soon? We live in a time of savages. Look around us." It was at that very moment that I was struck by the fact that I was having this conversation with Spook in the middle of the Worshire's lavish lobby. Six months ago if someone had told me the two of us would be standing at this exact location, exchanging these very words, I never would have believed them. "They're all savages, Franky. Every last one of them. Would not eating meat make them any different, any better? I lived the enlightened life for eight years and what did it get me? I experienced it. I know what it's like. Now I can move forward, or backwards as the case may be. It's my turn to be a savage. I want to be strong and powerful and mad." I was somewhat taken aback by this final declaration. "I gotta hand it to ya, Spook. You never cease to amaze me." Just then I spotted a beautiful brunette slinking her way through the crowd. Spook saw her, too. It would have been impossible to miss her. She was wearing a dark crimson dress that clung to every luscious curve of her body. She had the type of figure that would make hourglasses jealous. I swear I felt my knees buckle. She smiled. She couldn't have been smiling at me. That flowing black hair, those sultry eyes, those long legs, those enormous... she couldn't have been smiling at me. She kept getting closer. I almost fainted. "There you are, darling!" She was addressing Spook. "I was beginning to wonder where you disappeared to." She slipped her arm around his waist and nestled under his right arm. My seemingly limitless admiration for Spook soared to new heights. I continued to gaze admiringly at the woman. A spark of recognition flared. "Sorry, dear," said Spook. "I ran into an old friend. Maria, this is Franklin Richards. Frank, this is my fiancée Maria Carpazzo." "It's always nice to meet a friend of Jonathan's." I was so busy studying her lips I almost didn't hear what she said. "I assure you the pleasure is all mine." Shaking her hand made me recall what it was like to be thirteen. That's when I remembered where I had seen her before. "Your father wouldn't happen to be Gino Carpazzo of Carpazzo's Fine Meats, would he?" "Why, yes, he is. Do you know him?" "I knew I saw you someplace before. I wrote a story on your father for the business section of the Chronicle a few weeks back. He had a picture of you on his desk." "Oh, so you're that Franklin Richards! I should thank you. It was a very flattering article." "It was hard to be anything but flattering. Your father was extremely kind to me, and his business is one of the most profitable in the region." "Yes, he's doing quite well. We're all very proud of him. Will you be joining us for dinner, Mr. Richards?" "Actually, I'm supposed to meet my family inside." "Well, be sure to come around to our table afterwards for drinks. I'm sure father would love to see you again. He couldn't have been more pleased with the article." "Thank you, I'll be sure and do that." "Good. I'll leave you two alone; I just wanted to let Jonathan know they're going to start serving dinner in ten minutes." "Thank you, dear," said Spook. "We'll be right in." She gave Spook a kiss on the cheek and floated away. Mesmerized, we both silently witnessed her departure. The natural sway of her hips set forth within me another nervous bout with perspiration. I was desperately wishing she had forgotten to tell Spook something just so we could watch her walk away again. As soon as the last glimpse of leg disappeared into the ballroom, I turned to Spook with a sly grin. He knew what I was thinking, that he was a hypocrite and a phony and that everything he had said that evening was nothing more than the rationale of a whipped man. Great philosopher my ass! Yet Spook merely looked at me with those thoughtful eyes of his and won me over with a single line of defense. "You should see her naked." Yes, sir. That Spook was a genius.