The Horsons

A Family portrait

Jack Horson was abruptly roused from a recurring dream in which he was being hunted by ogres by the persistent sound of a meaty fist pounding against his bedroom door. “Jack, breakfast is ready!” his mother’s robust voice boomed, resonating through the cozy, albeit chaotic, house. He groaned in response, pulling the soft covers tighter around him as he contemplated the comfortable warmth of his bed. However, the thought of missing breakfast sent a shiver of dread through him. Last time he skipped a meal, he ended up spending the next month being used as the family toilet. He listened to his mother's heavy footsteps retreating down the hall, her massive belly slapping the walls as she waddled down the stairs. Her belly had been the final resting place of more than one friend, including. Including his first High School crush

With a resigned sigh, he pushed the covers aside and swung his legs over the side of his pallet, feeling the chill of the floorboards beneath his bare feet. As he descended the creaky staircase, the enticing aroma of sizzling meats wafted upward, coaxing him closer to the kitchen. Stepping into the bustling space, he was met with a sight that was both overwhelming and bizarre: the long wooden table was heaped with an extravagant array of meats, each dish radiating warmth and enticing fragrances. His fifteen sisters, each a whirlwind of energy, surrounded the table, their laughter and chatter filling the air like a joyful symphony.

He reached for a golden-brown chicken drumstick, its skin crisp and inviting. As he began to nibble on the savory meat, he couldn’t help but feel both fascinated and slightly repulsed by the sight of his mother, who effortlessly swallowed an entire ham in one gulp. The spectacle was almost surreal—her eyes sparkled with sheer enjoyment, while a loud belch from his father erupted across the room, a clear signal that breakfast had come to an end.

With his sisters now busily clearing away the remnants of their hearty meal, Jack made his way back upstairs. Rorik was mounting Molly on the kitchen table. This display was met with resounding applause from the assembled daughters. As he ascended the stairs, his thoughts shifted toward the day ahead, and he contemplated his plans as he prepared to get dressed, the echoes of laughter still ringing in his ears.

Jack loathed and hated his family when they weren't trying to eat him; they were trying to seduce him. His sisters were just as bad as his parents. He could not count the number of times his sisters had bragged at dinner about eating their latest boyfriend in the middle of sex or entering into a belching contest with their father. All this was encouraged by his parents. The only sister with whom he had a somewhat normal relationship was his younger sister, Molly. She was ten months younger than Jack.

Even the youngest Milly, who was seven, just laughed when Gretta ate Milly's best friend.

"Mom, I'm heading out to Brianna's house."

Gretta yelled from the kitchen, "Don't be too late, I have something special planned for dinner!" ending the sentence with a belch that seemed to last forever