Day 207 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Start with the line, “This gives the ‘you are what you eat phrase a whole new meaning.”
Erin: “This gives the ‘you are what you eat’ phrase a whole new meaning,” my friend chuckled.
I just rolled my eyes and turned my body away.
“How does it feel to be a cannibal,” he just continued to chuckle.
“How does it feel to be an idiot,” I re-adjusted my work costume and grabbed the giant advertising sign.
“Shut-up and eat your pizza, Pizza Slice.”
Shannon: “This gives the you are what you eat phrase a whole new meaning,” my friend joked, happy to see her experiment working.
“What,” I scowled, with no control over my own facial muscles, “Are you saying I’m salty?” I felt a burning feeling throughout my body.
“Exactly, and if you eat this,” she handed me a cupcake. “You should be sweet.”
What is your character eating?
Pelky Sisters 
“This gives the ‘you are what you eat’ phrase a whole new meaning,” she laughed, admiring the colourfully-labeled bottles and squinting at the names. “And you say they actually work,” she asked loudly with skepticism written all over her angular face, coughed to cover a throaty chuckle and let her beady eyes rest on my nametag, “Janice?” Though I’d dealt with her kind all my life, I was beginning to understand why crimes of passion happened.
Having kept my lips in a slight upward curl through the first few minutes of our conversation, I finally let them turn downward at the edges and sneered, “Yeah, well, if I didn’t think they actually worked I wouldn’t be here, would I?” I shoved as much venom into that short response as I could, letting every ounce of fury I’d been feeling seep out of me in one burst.
The woman laughed heartily and grimaced at the bottles in calming aquamarines and shimmering emeralds. “Well, I don’t believe you one whit. I mean, come on; bottled emotions? Really? Pft,” she breathed as she turned on her heel and moved on to the next vendor with the same disbelieving, bitchy face as she had when she stopped at my booth.
“Really?” I mocked behind my hand, willing the negativity that surrounded me to leave before a customer came along. According to my research on this particular festival, three percent of the attendees might actually be in the mood to make a purchase, where forty-two percent were simply here to make fun or disprove concepts and items they, personally, disapproved of; unfortunately, of that remaining fifty-five percent, only two percent were likely to make an impulsive purchase. This kind of business was pretty tricky, what with the snake oil salesmen making everyone look bad and the fact that multiple stands sold the same items. But, it could be very rewarding if you could reach a happy medium between the nuts and sane populous.
A small cluster of women with the same petite noses and slightly-sunken eyes chatted in low tones as they made their way across the crowded street to stop at my booth. When their eyes flickered to the elegant sign on the front of my tent, they began to whisper in heated conversation until one broke apart and stepped under the shadow of my awning. With piercing, emerald eyes, the slight, simply-dressed woman looked as though she were about to cry in the dim lighting.
“Is it true?” she asked in a voice barely louder than a late autumn breeze and just as chilling.
There was a horrible moment where I feared she might have frozen to the spot, until one of her sisters came to rest a hand on her shoulder for support. Without a sound, the two moved toward my sprawling tables and I cleared my throat self-consciously. Quickly, I replied, “Do you mean, is it true that, with a simple pill, you can feel any emotion you could ever hope for? Because, if so,” I’d fallen into my infomercial voice and was having a difficult time controlling my over-excited tone, “you are correct!” Wobbling on my two-inch heels, I shifted around to stand behind the table on the left, sporting our festival-famous cheerful emotions. “These ones will make you happier than a clown on their birthday, but be warned that they have been known to cause euphoric highs in those with weakened immune systems,” I added in a quick pace that most customers couldn’t follow.
As I’d been speaking the third sister had made her way to the other side of the tent, sniffing indignantly, but when I stopped talking to let the other ladies browse, she joined them at the happiness pills. “So these can make anyone happy with just one dose?” With bushy eyebrows and yellow teeth, she was clearly the eldest, and perhaps the best decision-maker in the family, but I was wary of her interest.
“Of course! Our pills can make you feel whatever emotion you want to feel whenever you want to feel it! They’re amazing!” Winking at the younger one, I twirled and took a long swig from my water bottle before popping a bright pink pill between my lips so the potential customers couldn’t see. Relief flooded through me, followed immediately by the jittering of fresh excitement. “And,” I shouted so loud people two booths over turned their heads, “you might never have to feel anything you don’t want to ever again!” Giggling violently, I sucked in a breath to calm myself a bit.
The eldest sniffed again and explained, “See, our mother just lost our two-timing, asinine father and we fear she may just stop breathing because she is so depressed. Will this help her?” While the no-nonsense approach was favorable, in my personal opinion, it made the tactical over-sale a lot trickier.
Plastering my best expression of grief, which I hoped they wouldn’t notice didn’t touch my eyes, I cooed, “Oh, I am so very sorry for your loss. That is just so dreadful for your mother.”
“Yeah, he deserved a much more painful end than he got, but hey, at least he’s gone now,” piped up the second, bulkier woman with a severe edge to her words as though she would have liked to slice this slimy man to bits.
“Hmm,” I muttered, feeling the emotion ebbing slightly, “I believe I have just the size for her. Only two-hundred-and-forty-eight dollars, a real steal, for two-months’ worth of depression-killing elation!” Ending my pitch with jazz hands, I was pleasantly surprised to have made the sale.
As I studiously packed and inventoried my wares, taking extra care to pack the samples in the correct bottles, lest I have another unfortunate mishap like the one a few months ago, I hummed quietly to myself. When the coast was clear and everyone around me was paying attention to striking their own booths, I slipped a couple of our signature productivity pills under my tongue and burst into action. Before long, I was the only one skipping down the street to my car, entire table packed up on my dolly.
I leaned against the car and let the productivity drain slowly from my system to be replaced with some leftover excitement from before; some emotions outlasted others. Water also seemed to affect the duration of emotion with it lengthening some and cutting others short. Though the pills had been on the market for several years, we just couldn’t get them to level out, no matter how hard we tried. Elation never lasted as long as relaxation, for example, but gloom could stick around for days on end. It really was a tricky business.
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“This gives the ‘you are what you eat’ phrase a whole new meaning.”
Jacey ignores the muttered statement, but then looks up when she notices everyone staring at her. “What?”
“…Nothing,” Josh says quickly.
Jacey wipes her face of barbecue sauce, “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“We just… Well…” August looks at his brother for help.
“Aren’t you vegetarian?” Finn asks.
Jacey sees that Josh and August were wondering the same thing. “What made you think that?”
“Well… with your abilities,” Josh says, “we thought you’d… sympathize with animals. And stuff.”
Jacey stares at the boys in shock, then starts busting a gut.
“…We broke her,” Finn whispers.
“You realize that I can transform into carnivores, right?” Jacey asks, “Why wouldn’t I eat meat?”
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