CHANGES IN APPETITE

"Of course I feel fine," Rick Jerith moaned as the doctor poked and prodded his body for the umpteenth time in the last two days. His irritation from feeling like a lab rat was beginning to show through every word he spoke. "I really don't see any need for this doc."

Doctor Maisan, a small, soft-spoken man in his early sixties, continued with his examination. His fascination with his patient's unique and thoroughly unprecedented situation drove his tireless efforts to unlock what had actually happened two days earlier.

"I'm going to require a urine sample," Doctor Maisan stated in a sterile tone. "And perhaps another blood sample as well." He glanced up at his increasingly annoyed patient. "If that's all right with you Mr. Jerith."

Rick glared at the doctor. "Fine," he grumbled through clenched teeth. "Whatever. Just make it quick."

Doctor Maisan could hardly contain his excitement. His good fortune of being the one and only doctor in the tiny, isolated town of Newsbury, Michigan was almost too good to be true. Of all the towns, in all the counties, he, Dr. Coleman A. Maisan, practiced in the one place where a young man actually rose from his casket during his funeral and announced he was not dead after all. He himself had pronounced the man dead after examining him thoroughly and now here was the same man sitting in his office claiming that he felt perfectly normal.

"How many more tests do you have to do?" Rick asked. He was starting to get hungry and wanted nothing more than to head back to his little disorganized house and lose himself in various television channels. "I know what happened to me was really weird, but I feel fine. In fact, I feel great." He flexed his large arms to emphasize his point.

"I know, I know Mr. Jerith," Doctor Maisan replied quietly while selecting a large specimen container from a drawer. "But I need you to fill this up for me if you would."

Rick glared at the plastic cup. "That thing is huge. How am I supposed to fill that up?"

"Just do the best you can please," Doctor Maisan said with a smile. "And then we can discuss your situation a little."

Rick frowned. "I already told you what happened. I was working on my roof and I slipped coming down the ladder. I guess the patio cement broke my fall."

"Yes. I believe you broke your neck. I examined you myself."

Rick just shrugged. "Yeah I guess I did, but I feel great now. Look." He swung his head back and forth, twisting it in all directions.

Doctor Maisan nodded. "Yes, yes I know. It's perfectly normal now." He set down the needle he was preparing. "Rather fascinating I might add. No sign of damage whatsoever, not even any bruising." An expression of worry crossed his weathered face. "To be honest Mr. Jerith…I'm baffled."

Rick laughed. "I'll tell ya something really strange though doc. I feel better now than before I had the accident…much, much better."

Doctor Maisan smiled nervously. "Have you had any other changes worth noting, such as sleeping habits or a change in appetite?"

Rick's smile grew wider. The sterile white glow from the light fixtures reflected off his eyes. "Nope. Still sleep like a baby, and my appetite…is…ahhh. My appetite…"

A cold lump formed in Doctor Maisan's throat. "Yes Mr. Jerith? What about your appetite?"

"My appetite has changed a little now that you mention it doc," Rick slurred, thick drool cascading down his chest. "Lately I've had this huge craving for…brains."