by Brandi Wells
When I decided to eliminate meat from my diet, I didn't know it would be difficult to remember to quit eating the buffalo wings on beer night and to opt for peanut butter and jelly over ham and swiss. I became an accidental meat-eater, not intending to aid in chickens' inhumane living conditions, but doing so every time I forgot and swallowed a bite of double-breaded chicken fingers. I was a complete vegetarian, knew it was the right thing to do, thought meat-eating was for the corrupt and mean-spirited, but without a constant reminder, I was killing very cute animals as fast as I could walk down the street. I was skewering puppies and kittens with a pointed walking stick, emptying the stick into a waste bin and starting again.
Brandi Wells is a student at Georgia Southern University, soon to graduate with a BA in Writing and Linguistics and a BA in English. Her fiction appears in or is forthcoming in Hobart, Monkeybicycle, Word Riot, The Saint Ann's Review, Dark Sky Magazine and other journals.