by Arnold Snyder
Caligula’s Feast was buzzing with the dinner crowd. After telling the cashier to charge it to my room, we stood at the entry to the enormous dining hall just trying to get our bearings before entering the fray.
“There are no tables,” Lulu said.
“Yes, dining habits have changed.”
“People are just eating right out of those … troughs,” she said.
“Yes, there’s been a shortage of dinnerware and utensils for many years now,” I explained. “You’ve gotta hand it to people, they sure know how to make do. They don’t make dinnerware anymore and the human population has been increasing exponentially for decades.”
“They’re eating like pigs,” she said. “Look at that guy there. He’s got his whole face in the trough. Disgusting! He’s not even wearing pants.”
“Yes, well, there isn’t any disease any more. No illness, no bad germs. Hygiene isn’t important like it used to be.”
“But what is that slop they’re eating? It’s horrible looking.”
“It’s just a blend of edible substances.”
“I think I’m going to vomit.”
“No problem, Lu. Lots of people vomit in public now. It’s not socially unacceptable anymore. Just let it go anytime. It doesn’t matter if it gets on you or anyone else. It’s only vomit.”
At that moment, a gentleman not ten feet from us, projectile-vomited a huge multicolored glob that splashed onto and partially into one of the feeding troughs. The diners at that trough just continued eating.
There was a look of sick horror on Lulu’s face. Girls are so squeamish sometimes.
“Let’s go play some blackjack,” I said.
I took her hand and quickly led her out of the buffet and into the casino.
Go to Chapter Sixteen