This is a newer incarnation of an older story. I keep turning back to it, though it has been years since I've done any serious prose. I keep getting the idea that there are aliens in this story, but I don't know why or how yet. No news on anything serious... I might change my pen name, though.

Foreword

Nicholas was eating pork. He was wasting his globules, sticking his fork in and twirling it – he felt like his righteous anger was elevating his eating to another plane. "This is good, mum," he munched, and thought of sticking his fork right into the plate and breaking it.

Why were there faces all around, staring at him? He looked up, greedily, and saw their upset. "I'm just eating, he moaned. It was his birthday, and no one else seemed to be eating. Well, they'd get used to it. He laughed a happy laugh, and stuck his fork deep into the meat – but the plate didn't break.

"Wasn't it lovely," Nic muttered, within his pleasure, "How I got so many presents!" he munched, and looked about the room as he swallowed. There was no laughter. "What, has someone died?" he asked them. They looked about. It was his whole family. His sister, whom was smirking, his mother, whom was looking directly at him. His father was twiddling his thumbs. His grandparents had pale smiles. "Have I got something on my lips?" he asked. But, the truth was, they were sick of his talking for half an hour. He was making himself sick with ingestion.

"Maybe you've had enough, mate," muttered his father, extending his hand. Nicholas thwacked it with his fork – right on the knuckle.

"No, this is mine. I have to eat this!"

He looked tearful. His guts were full, and he was getting angry. He had a pain in his gut now, and he continued to lump meat on his plate, and lettuce, and cherry tomatoes.

It was a simple dinner, or lunch or what have you. There were chicken legs, pork rinds, turkey backs, potatoes, etc. The family had finished a long time ago, and he was prolonging the inevitable.

"Well, when you're finished, lad," his father spoke.

Nicholas chucked down his fork. "Okay," he said. "What's the big surprise?"

"Son, we're sending you to boarding school."

Nicholas started crying.