yachiru

Gelfred often watched his neighbor through the wide window in his own kitchen. The boy was called Alfie, a name that sounded cute and harmless.

But Gelfred knew the boy’s secret.

Each night, the boy sat at his desk and opened a small wooden box. Inside the box was a large round object that Alfie would cut into.

The next day a country would disappear. Gelfred would ask his neighbors if they remembered Poland or Pluto.

No such place, they’d say.

Which meant that the boy was eating the world. One bite at a time. Planets too. Oceans and land and all the people in between.

Well Alfie had to be stopped didn’t he? Gelfred planned to act before Denmark or Saturn went as well. He quite liked the rings around the latter.

In the morning he put on his tweed suit and clipped on the red bowtie Millicent always said made him look official.

He hadn’t been next door physically in years. Not since Alfie’s parents and grandparents all died on an ill-advised trip to Disney World Scotland when they ate haggis on a stick that had spoiled.

Alfie had come back hollow eyed, his ribs protruding in a disturbing manner. Most in town had avoided the boy after, for fear whatever was haunting the boy would manifest in them.

Gelfred had thought the boy was getting better. For sure Alfie had gained pounds and pounds, filling out until he resembled a cooked dumpling.

Gelfred could still see the boy’s ribs, above the potbelly and waddling knees.

Alfie’s door looked different. Gelfred remembered a cheerful lion door knocker with a ring through its mouth. The lion now had the patina of old metal and snarled, making him hesitate to use it.

“You won’t give me a disease?” he asked the metal lion anxiously, wringing his hands.

He knocked once and waited. If no one came to answer he could at least say he tried saving the world.

Five minutes later the door opened a crack.

“No solicitors,” the voice croaked.

“Is that you Alfie?” Gelfred asked. “I came to speak with you but I’m not selling anything. Unless you’re interested in some very fine china I found at a yard sale last week. It’s got little blue octopuses painted on it. Quality work.”

The door opened and there Alfie stood. His shirt was stained in bruised purple and green stains that matched the patches of food on his chin.

Gelfred squinted. “You’ve been eating Finland haven’t you? I can see fjord drippings on your neck.”

Alfie shrugged and turned around, leaving Gelfred to pick his way through newspapers and empty cans on the floor.

Tetanus shot tomorrow, Gelfred vowed.

Alfie had carved himself a single spot on the couch in the living room that was free of trash. He curled up on his spot, eyeing Gelfred suspiciously.

“Tired of spying on me?” Alfie asked.

Gelfred sniffed. “I know what you’re doing. My Milly has been gone over a decade and I still have urges to swallow large parts of Canada but I resist because Milly always liked those Mounties. Also eating large parts of anything is wrong. Gives you indigestion.”

Alfie stared at his hands. “What am I gonna do then? When sadness empties my belly so that I hunger and hunger with an appetite so big I might as well be inside out?”

Gelfred peered down at his feet. “Well first we clean up your space a bit. Give you some walking around room.”

“And then?” Alfie asked.

“Then,” Gelfred said, “I suppose we can decide from there.”

Just to be safe, Gelfred took the wooden box with him when he left. He liked to take it out sometimes, wondering what Mozambique tasted like.