Angela's Farm, Chapter 3

They finally made it to the main house twenty minutes late, after Olivia had to physically drag Sarah out of bed by her ears. The breakfast preparation was already in full swing and the entire place smelled like a friendly roadside cafe.

Jenna was flipping pancakes, cheerfully spilling out of her shorts and top. Aunt Angela stood next to her frying eggs, humming a tune, and taking up the entire space in front of the stove and then some.

"Mom, please move your butt; I can't even reach the pan." 

"O’Connors have always had short arms," Angela replied. "My grandmother could only cook on the closest burner and still needed a very long spoon."

"Yeah, sure, mom. Short arms are definitely what our family has always been known for. I've seen the pictures of your grandma. She could barely wrap her arms around her gigantic belly."

"Precisely! Short arms. Mine are getting shorter too. See?" Angela just noticed the girls standing at the kitchen door. "It's about time, you two. Bring me those plates from the table." 

She made no attempt to turn around from the stove. She just backed up like a truck and piled five fried eggs, four sausage links, and about half a can of baked beans on each of the three plates.

"I already had my breakfast much earlier," she explained.

“That’s too much,” Olivia protested. "Ouch! Why did you do that Sarah?"

"Shush!" Sarah kicked her again.

“Too much of what?" Angela's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you learn in school that breakfast is the most important meal of the day? Except for lunch and dinner, of course. You two are as thin as the pancakes my lovely daughter is burning because of her SHORT ARMS. And you Sarah, stop giggling. At least Olivia has some color in her cheeks." With that Angela pinched Olivia's cheek with her plump fingers and wiggled it like a plush toy. "But you," she released Olivia's face and shifted her attention to her niece, poking her in the shoulders, "you look like my sister is feeding you just pulped IKEA furniture. Imagine a customer walking into our store looking for a pound of organic butter and seeing you two hanging around. They'd run away, convinced we are thinning our milk with rainwater. And you Jenna, you shouldn't be laughing either. I saw that Sanders' daughter in the general store yesterday, and you have some serious catching up to do."

"Oh, you saw Alissa?"

"I'm sure her mother must be overstuffing her with all the bacon just to make me look bad in front of my friends like I'm not feeding my own daughter enough." She pointed her fat finger back at Olivia and Sarah, "Are you two waiting for a handwritten invitation? Sit down and eat!"

"I warned you," Sarah mumbled as she shuffled towards the table. Olivia was trailing close behind her, rubbing her cheek. "If you don't want any more lectures, just keep your mouth shut and follow the program. Am I right auntie?"

"I want to see those plates empty."

Olivia took a seat and gazed at the pile of food in front of her. She poked one egg with her fork. It was dripping with butter, most likely the entire pound that the fleeing customers will not be purchasing from Angela's store. And the yolk was orange, which was quite surprising. Egg yolks were always pale yellow at home.

“Oh, my silly head.” Angela appeared back at the table with the frying pan. "You distracted me, and I forgot to give you hash browns." Olivia's orange eggs vanished beneath a hill of fried potatoes. Angela then aimed her frying pan at the other side of the table. "No cheating, Sarah! I can see how you dumped half of your food on Jenna's plate."

"But, auntie, you just said that you need to take better care of your daughter. I'm only trying to help. In my opinion," she put her hand to the side of her mouth and whispered, "she's losing her appetite."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, poor Jenna, she's literally disappearing before my eyes. You don't want anyone to see your daughter's ass shrinking, especially Mrs. Sanders."

"Shut up, Sarah," Jenna said as she came to the table, placing a steaming tower of pancakes in the middle. Olivia stared in disbelief at the massive stack in front of her. She wasn't sure who these were intended for but started to have weird suspicion.

“Don't worry,” Jenna said with a grin. "I can always make a few more if you'll be still hungry."

Aunt Angela returned with a jug and began filling their mugs with milk.

"Can I have…" Olivia was about to ask about orange juice when she saw Sarah's warning finger in the air, so she changed it to "… more" before grabbing her overflowing mug and taking a big gulp. Her eyes widened in shock.

“It's interesting, isn't it?” Sarah said when she saw Olivia's expression.

"Is that table cream?" Olivia asked quietly.

"No, apparently that's how milk tastes in Big Sky Country."

“Sarah's right at least once a year. That's how milk tastes before the cream is separated," Jenna explained with her mouth full. "And that will be your job."

"To drink ass-fattening milk? Cool. I volunteer Olivia."

"Cousin, please, stop talking and eat. Breakfasts used to be so peaceful and quiet around here. What the fuck? Did you just put more of your food on my plate?"

"Language, Jenna," Angela said from the sink.

"If I were Sarah's roommate, I'd kill her in a week."

"Language, Jenna," now Sarah insisted. "Don't give Olivia any ideas; she's easily influenced."

"I thought of it a few times, but decided to keep her for entertainment value," Olivia said and put a heaping fork into her mouth.

"And the entertainment you shall receive."

"You two are not actually fucking, are you?" Jenna raised her head from her plate with curiosity.

"Jesus!"

"Hell, no. Although, on second thought, if she can grow that fat ass… Hahaha. You should see your face, Olivia. You are so fucking gullible."

"One more word, you three, and you'll be eating lunch in the barn."

Things went quiet, finally. In the first ten minutes or so, Olivia was afraid she'd pass out if she ate even half of what was on her plate. It had to be the fresh country air or something, but she actually managed to finish it without collapsing.

A heavy hand patted her shoulder. She looked up into Angela's beaming face. "You're such a good girl," the big woman said with even bigger smile. She took Olivia's empty plate and replaced it with a clean one, then Jenna piled four pancakes on top, and covered it with a ladle of blueberry jam and a bucket of thick syrup. Before Olivia could even open her mouth, she buried it beneath a layer of whipped cream.

While the Mt. Pancake in front of her looked inviting, just being in its humbling towering presence made her head dizzy.

“Have more milk,” Jenna suggested, piling up her own plate and repeating the whipped cream encasing process. “The high-fat content may help digestion. Or not."

Olivia gave it a shot. No, it didn't help at all. She looked at Jenna with fascination. The fat girl dug through her six or seven pancakes as if she hadn't just finished her own plus three-quarters of Sarah's eggs, sausages, and potatoes.

But, Olivia reasoned, country girls, with all that fresh air surrounding them and making them constantly hungry, needed to be well fed. Especially the girls who had to drag 340 pound body around the farm in two-sizes-too-small clothes. That was 200 pounds heavier than she was. That would be like stuffing two Sarahs beneath her shirt. She shuddered at the thought.

It was so hypnotic to watch Jenna eat her stack of pancakes, then add a few more. Olivia couldn't even remember how she managed to finish her own food. She was about to take another bite, when she discovered, much to her surprise, that her plate had been licked clean. She was disappointed at first, but the heavy pressure in her stomach reminded her of where all the pancakes had gone.

"Sarah? Have a good look at your friend," Angela said sternly, but her tone softened like a fat fuzzy blanket when she turned to Olivia, "Would you like me to fix you some ice cream, sweetie?”

Olivia's eyes widened. She was on the edge of exploding.

“Perhaps later,” she managed to squeeze from her lips, but she felt she was being pretty careless by opening her mouth so much.

"You are a quick learner," Jenna said as she was finishing her third helping. She paused, brefly, studying her. "For the love of God, girl, unbutton those pants or you'll faint!"

Perhaps that was the problem? Olivia undid her button and pulled her zipper down, allowing her stomach to spill five inches into her lap. “That was so close,” she said and exhaled with relief. It really was.

"With my mom's butter-centric cuisine, jeans should be explicitly banned on our farm. I should put up a sign." Jenna placed her empty plate aside, apparently satisfied for the time being. “So, let's get some coffee and get started."

The ‘coffee’ turned out to be a teaspoon of brown granules from an unlabeled jar, a drop of hot water from the kettle, and a big cup of cream, this time the real deal, with four generous tablespoons of sugar. Seattle coffee shops would be turning in their graves. It was so thick that Olivia could only describe it as a pudding in its early stage of congealing.

It did, however, go down quite pleasantly, as all puddings do, and the strange combination of dairy fats, sugar, and instant coffee produced a remarkably quick-acting reaction. After chugging the entire cup in one go, Olivia made a surprisingly agile dash for the bathroom, waddling hurriedly down the hallway like a penguin on a mission.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a hallway mirror. 'Just great,' she thought. She was only twenty years old and already nine months pregnant with octuplets.

"Olivia is such a good girl," she overheard Angela's muted voice from the kitchen. "I already like her far more than you two. I'll make her something special for lunch."