Angela's Farm, Chapter 5

If plates of food were a group of clowns and Olivia's stomach was a Fiat 500, it would have been a perfect setup for a visual gag. Instead, it was just called lunch.

It was a rerun of the breakfast but this time on a superior scale. No matter how much Olivia tried, she couldn't figure out what number goes after octuplets. 

It all began quite calmly with a plate of meatballs swimming in a bucket of red sauce with a loaf of bread on the side. She devoured the whole thing in about 20 minutes, gasping for air, only to be informed, much to her shock, that this wasn't the main course. Aunt Angela humbly apologized for having to come up with a snack on the spot while the real dinner was still being cooked in the darn oven.

Lunch version 2.0, as it were, was a few pounds of roast beef, enough to satisfy a dragon, mountains of mashed potatoes that could hide an entire platoon of dwarfs, and gravy enough to float a boat. All pilled on her plate like one giant diorama. 

At first, Olivia's stomach only protested mildly. It was the typical complaint about not having the capacity of a young hippo or something along those lines.  But then, halfway through her roast beef, it threw a real fit. It felt like a teen drama was playing out in her belly, complete with slamming doors in her face and angry declarations like "You never ever listen to me!" and "I never want to talk to you again!" The youth these days!

 Which, all things considered, was probably the best outcome Olivia could have hoped for, as after that, her stomach retreated to its own corner, or wherever stomachs go to sulk and listen to emo music. 

She was still in the middle of her lunch when Jenna finished her own and most of her cousin's plate and they both left for the creamery, leaving Olivia in the fat hands of Jenna's mother. The bastard Sarah even waved at her from the door, mouthing 'Enjoy,' and grinning like an idiot. There was no escape now.

She fought valiantly and nobly. But by the time she finished her meal and aunt Angela flatly informed her that she was now going to have a slice of pie, she couldn't even find the energy to mumble a single word. She simply leaned back, closed her eyes, and let Angela feed her what felt like half the entire pie. She couldn't be sure because the next thing she remembered was lying on a bench, covered with a blanket, with Jenna standing over her, saying, "Jesus, mom, what did you do to her? She was supposed to be at the creamery hours ago."

To Olivia, it felt like she was resting exactly two glorious minutes. But even the kitchen clock seemed to be part of the conspiracy now, showing it was just past 4.30 p.m.

"The poor starved girl practically begged me for a taste of the cherry pie I'd made for her. And she wolfed down the entire pie, that's how she appreciates honest country baking. Luckily I made two so she can have another for dinner. Oh, look at you, Olivia, honey. Did you get enough rest? Do you want some snacks?"

"Mum, I don't think she looks like she needs any more food. You filled her up like a balloon. And you, Olivia? Chop-chop. It's time to roll out and get to work." 

Olivia followed Jenna’s massive buttocks to the creamery, feeling as if she were learning to walk again. She imagined herself as Little Red Riding Hood, who had just eaten Big Bad Wolf for lunch with the entire grandma's house as an appetizer. She half-giggled at that. A full giggle may have resulted in the lunch being deposited onto the shelf of Jenna's swinging ass.

'I'm glad to hear you enjoy my mom's cooking,' the swinging ass in front of her said as they entered the creamery. Sarah was nowhere to be seen, but the separator had been cleaned. Maybe she was sleeping in someone's shoe or eating catnip. She was always fantastic at avoiding all work. 

Not like Olivia. No. Olivia was a natural hard worker and a people pleaser. Carefully lowering herself onto the bench while holding her stuffed belly, she briefly considered lying down completely, as it would have saved her some unnecessary trouble later. How could this farm even survive? All they did around here was just eat and sleep. Or was it just her?

Jenna sat down next to her and exhaled heavily. "Having you two, enormous helpers here is fun and everything, but I realized I have a slight problem. In an hour or so, we're going to have dinner and if I continue to eat my food, and then most of Sarah's, I'll be soon carrying my belly in a wheelbarrow." She grinned at Olivia. "I know, that may not sound like a big deal, but they don't have any wheelbarrows that would go well with my colorful personality."

Olivia briefly tried to picture the situation. "I can see that. Maybe we should talk to your mom about it."

"Hell no. My mom is physically incapable of serving smaller portions. She'll panic that Sarah is sick and do just the opposite. We go through this routine every time Sarah comes for holidays. 'Oh, my lord, my sister must be starving this poor child!' There's no point in arguing that some people were born to be flimsy, so I double-stuff myself for a few weeks, gain fifteen pounds, and everyone seems happy. But now you're staying here till the end of the year or maybe longer." Jenna put her hand on Olivia's shoulder. "So I see only one solution to save me from the embarrassment of being seen with my belly in an ugly olive green wheelbarrow. And she is your best friend anyway."

Olivia opened her eyes and looked up at Jenna with confusion. Calling Sarah her best friend was a bit of an exaggeration, although Olivia quickly realized the irony. Out of all her non-existent friends, Sarah was indeed her best, but that was based on a technicality: Olivia was a social beast, bested only by a particularly lazy sloth. It wasn't that she didn't like people, she just found it was much easier to sit alone in a cafe, draw in her notebook and not listen to her schoolmates' endless chatter. But what did it have to do with anything? Then it hit her what Jenna was suggesting. "I hope you're joking!"

"Do I look funny? Okay, I probably do. See, I love getting bigger, but I'm trying to savor it, fill my gentle body with the good stuff, and not go fucking bat-shit in a half a year eating Sarah's lunches. You on the other hand have a lot of empty space to fill." She pinched Olivia's belly. "It's the perfect solution of doubling the bird count with half the stones."

"How could you even think that I could manage Sarah's food on top of what your mom is trying to cram into me? I can barely move."

"No, you're right. You can't. Not without professional help. But, as luck would have it, I have a lot of experience. Just wait, don't go anywhere." Jenna held up a finger and walked towards the fridge. Olivia could hear liquid being poured, and then Jenna was back, pushing a cold metal cup into her hand.

Olivia stared at the cup, not believing what just happened. She sniffed the liquid inside, just to be sure she wasn't hallucinating. "I just told you I'm stuffed to the gills, and you brought me a cup of heavy cream? Is this a joke?"

"No offense, but if you want to survive on this farm, you need to do some speedy training so that my mother's modest meals don't knock you out for the entire day. Trust me, there's no better way to get used to my mom's diet than by drinking heavy cream. As the wise doctor on TV says, take a cup of cream on a full stomach a few times a day and you'll grow out of all your problems in no time." 

Olivia wanted to ask what kind of doctor ever said that, but she bit her lip. Jenna was right, of course. It was late afternoon, and all she'd done today was have breakfast, lunch, and five hours of extra sleep. They didn't hire her to nap all day. Yes, she had to adjust to the local heavy and calorie-loaded cuisine, and fast. Not to mention that it was oddly comforting to hear Jenna asking for her help. And it was plain as Montana's fields that olive green was not Jenna's color.

 She brought the cup to her mouth and carefully dipped her tongue in, just to test the response. Everything seemed fine so she took a sip and then slowly gulped down the entire cup.

“See? It's already working. " Jenna grabbed the cup, walking away with it. "Your cheeks are getting nice and rosy. You'll become a farm girl in no time.”

"Is drinking cream your solution to everything?" Olivia closed her eyes, breathing slowly. The cream was doing something to her, she was just not yet sure what it was. 

“Pretty much. It's also a great remedy for broken hearts and broken legs. I know from my own extensive experience."  

Olivia suddenly felt a cold metal touching her hand. She opened her eyes. “You've got to be kidding me!” The cup was back in her hand, full again.

“Your duty right now is to quickly stretch your stomach so you can start helping me with Sarah's problem. You need to trust me, I've been doing this since I was ten." 

"You're just like your mom. You all just want to make me fat," Olivia said half-jokingly but she already started sipping the cream. 

“True. But in all honesty, find me something better you can do here."

Jenna made some good points. What else was a lovely city girl going to do on a dairy farm in the middle of nowhere, except grow her ass? She could be sketching cows or coyotes in her notebook if she hadn't forgotten to pack all her art tools. But right now her past time options were pretty limited. Watching sunset and eating food.

Jena went back to the fridge, lifted the entire metal tank of cream, and mounted it on the top of some weird cylindrical machine. 

"Third time's a charm," Olivia heard herself saying for no apparent reason. She smiled innocently, raising her empty cup in an odd attempt to retract her words. 

"Darn, girl! That's some deep enthusiasm. I almost want to warn you to be careful with that stuff, but let's see how much you can handle." 

After the third cup, Olivia felt that it was becoming too difficult to even think straight. She felt drunk. “Is there any alcohol in this?”

"That's not a bad idea." Jenna paused, tapping her lips with her finger, "I have a recipe for CHUGGNOG. It's eggnog mixed in a butter churner. It was invented by Emily, our former butter master. Vodka, eggs, spices, and a lot of cream," she counted on her fingers, "The trick was, as I recall, to leave some butter in the machine as it would give the CHUGGNOG extra smoothness." She sounded excited. "What do you say, city girl?"

“I like chuggnog. I think, " Olivia said from the bench trying to sound a bit less apathic.

“Christmas will be here in half a year, so it's not a bad idea to get ready. You kind of remind me of Emily with your enthusiasm. She was about your size when she started working here. She definitely wasn't when she left, hahaha. Anyway, this is the perfect time to give you your first churning lesson," Jenna opened the valve on the tank and watched as the thick, yellowish liquid began to flow steadily into the machine. 

“When the cream reaches this red mark, you turn it off,” she said gesticulating at something Olivia couldn't see from her bench. “Look, Olivia, I'm not going to do everything for you,” she pointed her finger at the control panel. “At least get your tiny ass here and push this.”

Olivia struggled to stand up then slowly shuffled to the machine and pushed the red button. The churner started humming and vibrating.

"I'll be right back with the booze," Jenna said. "If the thing beeps and stops, don't touch anything. You look very exhausted so feel free to take a break.” She went to the door, laughing to herself. "The city girls nowadays... zero energy..."

Olivia shifted her gaze from the wide silhouette disappearing through the exit to the cream tank vibrating on top of the churner. A break would be nice, she was barely standing. Jenna made a very compelling case. 

On the other hand, she couldn't bear the thought of being a letdown. Why do people say 'bear', she wondered as she slowly took the metal cup from the sink.  Why not a horse or a cat? She put the cup under the spout and turned the valve. Or even a bird? Like a pigeon. 'I can't pigeon the thought of being a fucking letdown.' she said loudly. It didn't have the proper ring to it, but it was true. 

When the cup was full, she shut off the valve.  Not a stupid feral pigeon! She couldn't SWALLOW the thought of being a letdown! But apparently, in this particular situation, it was the precise thing she could do. If it was her responsibility to stretch her stomach in order to be a proper employee and help Jenna, she was going to stretch that bastard even during her break. 

Taking a deep breath, she emptied the cup in one swift motion. She poured another, finished it the same way, wiped her mouth, burped like a dreadful lion, and sleepwalked to the bench. 

The churner was humming, synchronized with her breathing, sending her deeper and deeper. Urrrmm, urrrmm, urrrmm.