Free The Hunger Pains by Harvard Lampoon Page B

twenty seconds before it’s interrupted by the BWOMMP BWOMMP of a sad trombone. An audibly startled Rusty Jams comes back on the intercom. “That uh, was in memory of my girl Sarah, who uh, really knew how to live. No more smooth jazz tonight.”
    His microphone cuts off, and they start projecting the images of the fallen tributes. First up is a boy I don’t recognize, then the girl with the knives. More tributes are shown before a little placard saying In Memoriam flashes across the sky and a thoughtful Yo-Yo Ma cello piece begins playing. After the initial tribute announcements, Peaceland honors film and television celebrities who died during the year.
    First up is Tom Piper, host of the hit series Notalkses Say the Darndest Things. Next is Oscar Powell, the legend who directed Dude, Where’s My Hovercraft? From a distance, I hear the unmistakable sobbing of the theater district tributes.
    I wake up a little before dawn. It’s not quite light out, but something is going on below me. I shift on my branch to take a look around, but there’s no one in sight. Then I hear it: DONG! DONG! DONG! It’s the tribute with the bell around his neck. I had thought the Rainmakers would sliphim a subdermal tracker when they got another shipment, but I guess those things are pretty expensive. The tribute runs out of some bushes and makes a panicked beeline for my tree, grunting and straining against the heavy weight of the cast-iron bell strapped around his neck.
    That’s when I see the Varsities behind him. I can only make out Archie’s outline in the darkness, but I know there must be four or five of them. In one fluid motion, Archie winds up and throws something at the bell tribute. It spirals perfectly through the air before connecting with the tribute’s head. As I watch in horror, the bell rolls into a patch of moonlight, followed by the bloody steel football that Archie threw, and then finally the tribute’s severed head. “Bro,” one of the Varsities says to Archie, “sick.”
    BWOMMP BWOMMP. I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. Archie has taken the great game of football and made it a vehicle for violence. The other Varsities all chest-bump with Archie. “Bro, that was so tight,” one says.
    “Archie, you’re so strong!” fawns Mandy, who can somehow check her clothes, boobs, and makeup in one fluid motion.
    “Let’s get out of here, guys,” says one of the pack, but there’s something about that voice that throws me off. The husky tone, the rhythmic clapping of chins, the gentle hints of dough and French bread … Pita!
    “Look, breadboy, this isn’t just about killing people,” shoots back Archie. “It’s about going out and giving one hundred ten percent, never saying never, and not throwing in thetowel when the chips are down. Other people will never have the opportunity to smell a severed head or hear the sound a rib makes when you hit someone in the brain with it. Stop being so afraid of new experiences, sissy.”
    One of the taller Varsities slaps Pita in the boobs and adds, “Yeah, you’re as bad as your girlfriend. ”
    With that, Archie picks up his football and says, “All right, let’s find another loser.” They do a quick huddle to get amped up and then chug some Muscle Milk.
    They’re gone as soon as they appeared, leaving me with more questions than answers. Pita, what were you doing with those guys? Are you really playing this thing to win?
    I want to be worried, but smelling Pita has made me so hungry, it’s hard to think of anything else. As I wait to make sure they’re gone, I watch as a hovercraft appears in the sky above the body. Each time a tribute dies, a hovercraft shows up to remove the body. As it descends, the craft’s door slides open. Two voices are faintly audible from inside.
    “So I probably won’t open the restaurant until Becky’s out of school.”
    “That’s fair. She needs a dad, not a manager.”
    “Of course Jennifer wants me to stick with this