Curing the Uncommon Man-Cold by J.L. Salter Page B

interrupted. “Uh, I believe that’s nutritionist.”
    Christine waved her hand. Small details didn’t typically concern her. “Anyway, he highly recommends this. Perfect balance, all natural. Zero carbs. Astronauts use this during their training phase. It’s truly the right stuff.”
    Jason was already drooling. He’d been without real food for parts of four days. After the doctor visit on Monday, he’d grabbed a burger, fries, and shake. For the time, so far, at Amanda’s apartment, the staple had been dry, unsalted crackers. What’s in those crackers? They tasted like dog biscuits going down but had the aftertaste of the earliest supplemental fiber liquids. Added to the crackers had been small mugs of bland, thin consommé, tiny glasses of unsweetened prune juice, a soy hotdog with no bun, and some of the nastiest sardines ever caught in a mildewed net. He was not counting the tofu since he’d so thoroughly excoriated the inside of his mouth afterwards. He’d barely tasted the acorn coffee brew. Had it not been for his hourly — and sometimes half-hourly — inch of toothpaste, he was certain he would have expired at least 24 hours ago. He was starving… and had to restrain himself from diving into the canvas bag.
    Though he did not like her or trust her, right now Jason viewed Christine as a buxom Red Cross worker visiting his refugee camp. “You know, this starve a cold thing is pretty austere. I’m so weak from hunger I can’t even take a dump.”
    “Too much information, Jason.” Christine held out her vertical palm. “Anyway, I’m on duty… to the rescue. This stash here will keep you going for at least four more days… unless you decide to go home, of course. By then I’ll have located the second stage of this special NASA diet. That’s important, because it prepares your intestines for the colonic bath next week.”
    “The what!” Jason’s voice cracked like a fourteen-year-old boy’s.
    “The solution bathes the insides of your colon for forty-five soothing minutes of purification. The pure natural extracting herbs literally suck all the impurities from your colon.” Christine acted like she sold the procedure door to door.
    “I don’t want my colon sucked! And I’m not getting an enema from some fat-fingered lab technician.” Jason looked at both women. “You’re nuts!”
    ———
    Amanda had predicted a reaction like that. “Now, that’s no way to speak to the lady who just brought your meals for the next four days.” Amanda nodded deferentially toward her older friend.
    Jason’s drool seemingly overtook his sensibilities about the threatened colonic procedure. “Okay, sorry, I guess. I’m light-headed from no food. Anyway, you can cancel that enema thing. I’m positive I’ll be up and around by… uh, when did you say it was?”
    Christine waved her hand. “Apology accepted. I understand how a sliver of fever can affect your brain. They say half a degree is the worst kind. Most doctors miss it and it can go untreated for who knows how long.”
    “Right. So, let’s see what’s in the bag.” Jason actually rubbed his hands together.
    Amanda had to step back slightly because she already knew some of the contents and didn’t want Jason to see the grin she was trying to control.
    Christine continued her introduction. “Now, there can be some variation on the order of these meals… you know, in case you want to swap tonight’s supper for tomorrow’s lunch. And so on.”
    Jason rolled his hand sideways. Hurry up.
    Christine reached in and pulled out some celery stalks. “These are wonderful dipped in hummus.” With a minor flourish, she produced a small plastic tub.
    “Hummus!” Jason looked like he’d been poleaxed. “That’s, uh, that’s…”
    “Correct.” Christine could have been a game show hostess. “It’s ground-up chickpeas, made into a paste. But this is a special brand that takes out some of the gritty texture. Some people think it feels a