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Pork

"What's for dinner, dear?" Gary asked as he sat down by the dining room table. "It smells delicious."

His wife came out of the kitchen bearing a small tray of sliced meat. "My special pork. Happy birthday."

Gary beamed. "Excellent. Angela, you're the best."

She handed him the tray and he took a few slices.

"How was your day?" Angela said, taking a serving for herself.

Gary began to cut into his meat. "Not bad. I mean, work is work. But nothing dreadful."

"Good to hear. You got mail, by the way."

"Oh?" he said through a full mouth. "What was it?"

Amanda shrugged. "A wedding invitation, but I don't know who it's from. Probably an old friend of yours I never met."

"Okay, I'll look at it later." Gary took another bite. "Man, this stuff is delicious. I wish you'd make it more often."

She sighed. "I know you love it, dear, but it's a bit of a pain to make."

"Yeah, okay. But I still don't think you make it enough." He swallowed. "Yum. So what's the secret? How do you make it so delicious?"

Angela just laughed.

"No, really! I've never tasted pork like this anywhere but in this house. It's so unique."

"Gary, have I ever told you how I make anything that comes out of the kitchen? I think I'm entitled to keep my recipes secret."

He chuckled. "Okay. Well, I tried."

She smiled, and they ate in silence for a few moments before Gary remarked, "It's interesting, we haven't bought pork in a while and I was sure I remembered us finishing up the last of our stock in the freezer."

Angela paused with her fork halfway toward her mouth. "I . . . found it all the way in the back."

"Oh."

Their dinner continued with several more minutes of small talk. Soon Gary finished the last of his meal and stood up. "Well, it's been a long day. I'm going up to the bedroom."

They were the last words he ever spoke.

-x-x-x-

Earlier that day, a small child in their town had vanished. Now Gary vanished as well.

And Angela ate pork two nights in a row.

THE END


P.S. Go read the summary again.