Beatrice Eats the Passover Lamb

The family was asleep. Beatrice couldn’t sleep. The dreams were hurting her and she didn’t want to close her eyes and rest.

She grabbed a pack of Lucky Strikes and crawled out her bedroom window onto the front porch.

The moon light was reflecting upon two feet of fresh powder snow and it seemed like daytime outside.

The wind was bitter and biting, yet it eased Beatrice’s racing mind. The cigarette did nothing to alleviate her escalating feelings of pure bliss.

In her last dream aliens sucked her soul right from her body lying on the top bed of a set of bunk beds. They were eating her soul, her being, her memories. Taking everything that was the conscious of Beatrice and eating it like a cow eating grass in a field.

She could do nothing but sway in the wind and be eaten by cattle being fattened for a slaughter.

Beatrice was a part of it all, even though she was only a blade of grass to the aliens.

She was relieved to be awake and not dreaming of being held captive on a UFO stuffed neatly inside a bottle, like Barbara Benson in ‘I Dream of Jeanie"

Her neighbor’s plastic Nativity scene was glowing in the pure white snow. Camels, sheep, kings and shepherds lit up on the front Lawn across the street.

Mary and Joseph were kneeling next to a little manger and inside the trough like basset was a Cabbage Patch Kid. Beatrice never noticed that in the daylight. "How blasphemous!", she thought to herself.

But then the true meaning of her dream just occurred to her through the plastic religious emblems in her neighbor’s yard.

We live to eat and to be eaten and it’s better to be eaten than to be the last one left for whom no one will eat.

Beatrice was starved, she went back inside and pulled two cooked deer steaks from the leftover plate and ate the medallions of meat with her bare hands.

Beatrice hadn’t eaten anything in a week. She secretly threw up her dinner every night. The protein in the meat put Beatrice’s mind at ease and finally she went to sleep.