For the Love of Salad


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Hello, it’s Edgar again, the resident Carnie Hit man who has the moves of a Sith Lord and the sword wielding skills of Snake Eyes. There are rules at the carnival, and one of them is no contact with the outside world. That means no cell phones, but what’s bigger than that is no outside food. We have to live off artery clogging deep fried corn dogs, garlic fries and cotton candy. It’s a fast food lovers heaven, but smuggle in a salad? With Fat Free Dressing? You might as well just ask Samuel to dig you an early grave. So when Lydia asked me to make a side trip to Whole Foods, after I gutted Danko, injured Bennet and got back the compass, I quickly agreed. It’s hard looking this good by living on fast food alone. If Samuel knew we were conspiring against him I can honestly say I don’t want to know what he would do.


“Did you get it?” Lydia asked.

“Taking a big risk here, you know we’re not supposed to eat Salad,” I said.

“I know Edgar but I had to have it, I have to tell you something,” she placed a hand on my arm, “I’m,” Lydia looked into my eyes, almost ashamed, “A vegetarian.”

“You’re a vegetarian?” I asked in confusion.

“I became one when I was a teenager, and I was scared,” Lydia turned away.

“You stopped eating meat?” I asked trying not to judge her life style choice.

“Did you think I wanted to give up meat? I was too young, I was too different, one day I left my last hot dog at my sisters house and ran away,” Lydia said. “I ran away to here!”

“It’s okay,” , I said reassuringly.

“No it’s not,” Lydia said, “My tattoos have never moved on their own before, something is happening, I think I’m supposed to eat a hot dog. Oh Edgar, I don’t want to be a hotdog. I need to be alone right now with my salad.”

I left Lydia’s trailer, confused as to what I should do. But she trusted me and I knew where my loyalties lie. Later on when I was practicing my knife throwing Samuel approached me.

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“Lydia seems upset about something? Is she unhappy, dissatisfied with her food?” Samuel asked.

“She didn’t say anything to you about the corn dogs?” I said.

“Not a peep,” Samuel said.

“Okay,” I said.

“You and Lydia are free to eat your own food and your own mistakes,” Samuel said. Then he had to go and one-up me by taking one my knives and hitting the bull’s-eye.

Is it so wrong that I don’t want to live off carnival food? Does this make me un-loyal because I want to eat a salad?