Abstinence

Under a beautiful, cloudless sky, two lifelong friends gazed across a glorious vista of grasslands and valleys. A majestic, snow-covered mountain range climbed the sky in the distance. They swatted at a few flies that tried to spoil the day. 

“I’m going to give up meat, Rick. My version of Dry January.”

“You’re telling me this now?”

“I’ve been thinking it over for a long time. I wasn’t sure. Now I’m sure.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous, Lenny.”

“Not really. There are plenty of other things that will sustain me.”

“None of them well enough. And I doubt you could even do it.”

“I’m not saying it’s right for everyone. Definitely not you. Know why?”

Rick gave his friend a sideways glance.

“Ever hear of Richard the Lionheart?”

“Richard I of England. Yes Lenny, I have.”

“Describes you to a T, Rick: a warrior. I bet he ate lots of meat.”

“Because he needed energy to defeat his enemies.”

“You think there were herbivores back then?”

“You’re not going vegan, Len.”

“Can’t talk me out of it. I’ve gotta try it, see where it gets me.”

“I can tell you right now where it’s gonna get you.”

“I knew it. You’ve tried it, haven’t you?”

“No. Do I look an idiot?”

“So, why am I listening to you?”

“All right, then. Tell me. Where’s it gonna get you?”

“Nirvana. Maybe some clarity. A clearer head. Any of those things would be nice.”

“How about this for nice: your kids are going to starve and your wife's going to leave you?”

Lenny smiled. “My mind’s made up, Rick.”

“What kind of friend would let a friend self-destruct?”

“Maybe kind of extreme, but hey, I expect nothing less. Knowing that you’re there means a lot, man.”

“So I’m clear: you’re saying a slice of beef or chicken doesn’t make your mouth water?”

“You’re missing the point, Rick. It’s about exercising control. It’s about not giving in to the easiest, most appealing temptation. About going against the grain; taking a different route to work. It’s about—oh, never mind. If you can’t see the beauty in it, your eyes are closed to other lifestyles.”

“They’re wide open, pal. And meat looks and tastes mighty good to me.”

“And I’m saying meat isn’t everything. Herbivores exist today. They’re all around us. I’ll go out on a limb and suggest they may even be happier than we are. That’s how they look to me.”

“Nope. I just see carnivore-wannabes. No questions about it—plural.”

“Really? But I’ve got one.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever spoken to one? I mean, ever sat down and had a civil conversation? Like we’re having now?”

“Why would I ever do that?”

“You see? Never heard: walk a mile in someone else’s shoes?”

“Of course I’ve heard that, Lenny. I’m not an imbecile.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“Nice. We disagree about something and you start hurling insults.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to ruffle your fur.”

“Well, you did. It’s definitely ruffled. It may be permanent.”

“What I’m trying to say is life’s too short to stay rigid in one way of thinking. Where would we all be if—”

“Red meat is good for you! It sustains you throughout the day! It keeps your senses sharp. Not to mention: it’s rich in protein, full of iron and zinc and B vitamins. Should I go on?”

“Sure, because I never learned any of this. Now who’s flinging arrows? Don’t answer that. I’ll tell you: It’s the guy with a gut that hangs down around his knees.”

“Oh, that’s below the belt, even for you, Leonard. You know I’ve got a glandular problem. Can’t believe you’d make fun of it!”

“So you’ve always said. Although we both know you eat like there’s no tomorrow. You told me so yourself: late at night, when everyone’s asleep. When all the calories go straight to fat!”

“Hey! At least I exercise. You, on the other hand lounge around like King Tut waiting for someone to come up with a good reason for you to move.”

“I’ve got arthritis in my knees! You know that!”

Veins on both of their foreheads bulged, their teeth barred; on the verge of hyperventilating, they stared each other down.

“So it’s come to this, Rick? If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’re ready to tear out my jugular, get some red meat without all the chase.”

“Don’t tempt me, bud.”

“You don’t have what it takes. What you are at seven, you are at seventy. I remember when we were kids, and you lost that fight. Everyone chanted Rick Got Licked. Bet that hurt a bunch, huh?” 

“About as much as you after getting thrown out of every game you played in, Mr. Puny-Ass. I don’t know why I defended you all those years.”

“Because you didn’t have any friends. You figured I was desperate.”

Saliva now dripped off the tips of their teeth. They glared at each other for a long moment.

Lenny was the first to blink. “What the hell are we doing here?”

Rick took a deep breath and closed his mouth. “Airing some laundry?”

“I didn’t even know I had laundry.”

“Me neither. It’s beneath us.”

“Way beneath us. And past us. We have to live in the present. That’s all that matters.”

“And the future. We’ve known each other too long, Lenny. It’s petty.”

“Agreed. Sorry I implied you’re an imbecile.”

“Sorry I lectured you about being carnivorous.”

“Ditto. I shouldn’t have said anything about your weight.”

“Nor me with your arthritis.”

“You know, there’s nothing in the world that would make me hurt you.”

“I know.”

“But I never lost another fight.”

“I know that, too. Listen: I’m glad you befriended me. I didn’t have any friends either.”

“I know.” Rick smiled. “In hindsight, maybe I rushed into that.”

“Hey, I got you through all of your exams.”

“True. Okay. It was a good move, then.”

They chuckled at each other, shook their heads, and exhaled a mutual, elongated, “uhhh.” That got them laughing again.

“I don’t know about you, Rick, but after this idiotic conversation, all I can think about right now is how hungry I am.”

“Me too! It’s amazing how much energy a negative discourse consumes. So, what’s it gonna be, Len? A nice juicy carrot? Or a head of lettuce, maybe?”

“Funny.”

“I’m serious. I can hear your stomach rumbling. Do you honestly think a mouthful of greens is going to satiate that?”

“Maybe.”

“Come on. Who you kidding?”

Lenny crunched his eyebrows together and blew out a puff of air. 

Something moved out on the prairie and snagged their attention. A herd of gazelles peeked around the edge of a group of trees a few hundred feet away. They took delicate steps out onto the plain.

“Oh, my. Look at that, Len.”

“They are beautiful.”

The two of them studied the herd.

“You know, maybe it would be a good idea if I make the change a gradual thing. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s forcing me to quit meat. Right?”

“I sure as hell ain’t.”

“The body needs time to adjust. It wouldn’t be smart to go cold turkey.”

“Not smart.”

“Dry January, Dry Shmanuary. What’s wrong with a Dry February?”

“Not a thing, my friend.”

“All right, then. That settles it. For now, just for the time being, I’m going to put it on hold. You know, for the present moment.”

“There’s the ole Lenny! Good to have you back!”

“Thanks. Good to be back. But just til February.”

“Understood.”

They continued to focus on the herd. A single animal moved out onto the plain slower than the rest—it lingered back behind the group.

“You seeing it?”

“Yeah. It looks weak. It’s perfect.”

“You wanna take the lead this time? Run the ambush? I can sneak up around the side. Your call.”

Lenny smiled. “Richard The Lionheart should charge. I’ll man the flank.”

Rick grinned with a nod. “On three.”

The two massive male lions crouched into a patch of underbrush. Their eyes peeked through the tips of the tall grass—they were invisible.

Lenny whispered, “One, two, go.”