"I'm hungry!" said Frankie. "I want a snack! I want a candy bar!"
"I'm hungry too!" said Debbie. "I want a snack! I want ice cream!"
"What's a mother to do?" asked Mildred. "A busy parent like me doesn't have time to serve a candy bar to one child and ice cream to the other, and that gourmet ice cream with little chunks of candy in it is too expensive for our middle-class budget. I guess one of my children will have to resent me."
Mildred sat down at the kitchen table and wept. She always hated to see the disappointment in their young eyes. And though it was unfair to Debbie, she'd offer candy bars instead of ice cream. Frankie, at six, was already showing signs of becoming a serial killer and Mildred wanted to give him as idyllic a childhood as possible before he snapped.
"Don't be sad!" said an upbeat voice that she didn't recognize. "Why not give them delicious and nutritious pistachios?"
There was a stranger in the kitchen. A man—no, a nut! A man made of giant, unshelled pistachios. He was naked except for his tri-cornered hat, though since he had no genitalia Mildred felt comfortable that he wasn't a sexual predator. Actually, although a man made of pistachios should've fueled a million nightmares, he seemed like a charming, delightful fellow.
"Piss-tash-ee-ohs?" asked Frankie, stumbling over the word in an adorable way.
"That's right! Candy bars are just empty calories! Ice cream hurts if you have sensitive teeth! But pistachios are a salty, delicious treat with only 691 calories per cup! Chunky children like you should think about these things!"
"But I want ice cream!" whined Debbie.
The pistachio man smiled. His mouth looked like it had been drawn on his face with magic marker, so Mildred wasn't sure how it was able to move. Sorcery, she supposed.
"What if I were to tell you that pistachios are a hundred times better than ice cream?"
Debbie narrowed her eyes. Mildred hoped she didn't call the pistachio man a liar to his face.
"Who are you, exactly?" Mildred asked, to diffuse the tension.
"Why, I'm Captain Pistachio! I break into people's homes to show them that there are better snacking options! What are your names, little ones?"
"I'm Frankie."
"I'm Debbie."
"I already knew that," said Captain Pistachio. "I just didn't want to make you uneasy. So, Frankie and Debbie, I've got a special surprise for you!" He held up his hands, which were pistachio shells that opened and closed like the claws of a lobster. "Put out your hands!"
The children put out their hands. Captain Pistachio shook some pistachios into their palms.
"I don't like nuts," said Frankie.
"You only think you don't! These aren't peanuts, or walnuts, or any of those ghetto nuts. Pistachios are the best nuts of them all! Try 'em!"
"Go ahead, children," said Mildred.
Frankie and Debbie reluctantly popped the handfuls of pistachios into their mouths. They slowly began to chew. Frankie smiled. Then Debbie smiled.
"I love pistachios!" said Frankie.
"Me too!" said Debbie.
"I knew you would, kids!" said Captain Pistachio. He winked at Mildred with one of his drawn-on eyes. "Pistachios are scrumptious and they're good for you! So the next time you're in the mood for a tasty snack, what are you going to ask for?"
"Pistachios!" they both shouted.
"Thaaaaat's right! Yum, yum, yum! Well, it's time for Captain Pistachio to go now! I'll tell Santa you were good!" Captain Pistachio waved to the children as he walked toward the living room.
"One question," said Mildred.
"Sure! Captain Pistachio loves to answer questions!"
"You're made out of pistachios, right?"
"I certainly am!"
"Then is it really in your best interest to tell people to eat pistachios?"
Captain Pistachio frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I wouldn't go around encouraging children to eat human flesh. That would be insane, right?"
"Very."
"So isn't encouraging the consumption of pistachios equally insane?"
"I've never... I don't think so. I mean, if you go to a barbecue restaurant, there's usually a merry-looking pig on the sign. Nobody questions the pig's motives."
"Well, the pig isn't in my kitchen speaking to my family. If a magical pig showed up and said, 'Hi, I'm Captain Hammy, why not try a delicious strip of bacon?' yeah, I'd think it was bizarre."
"It's not like I cracked open my chest and invited them to start munching away."
"I apologize," said Mildred. "I've clearly offended you and that wasn't my intention."
"You didn't offend me," said Captain Pistachio. "You just made me see things differently is all. I've been telling kids to eat pistachios since the late 1970s. Nobody ever pointed out that it was cannibalism."
"I didn't say it was cannibalism. I didn't say that at all. You've never eaten a pistachio, have you?"
"Goodness, no!"
"So, then, it's not cannibalism."
Captain Pistachio wiped some cartoon sweat off his brow. "Thank God. I thought I was a deviant."
"Well, you're still kind of a deviant," said Mildred. "Your whole message should be to discourage the public from eating pistachios. Why would you ever want people to eat them?"
"Because they're delicious and nutritious."
"But you're a pistachio!"
"I'm a magical pistachio man. A regular bag of pistachios purchased from your local supermarket doesn't have consciousness or a sense of identity. It doesn't know it's being eaten. It doesn't care. It's a goddamn nut!"
"Please don't curse in my home," said Mildred.
"I'm sorry," said Captain Pistachio. "That was completely inappropriate. I didn't realize I even knew that word. I just feel like you're attributing a sense of self-loathing to me that simply doesn't exist. A magical pistachio man can promote the nutritional value of pistachios without it being a cry for help."
Mildred nodded. "I was wrong. You've been doing this for a long time and don't need some frumpy housewife questioning your motives. Thank you for the pistachio samples you gave my children and I wish you the best of luck."
Captain Pistachio smiled. "Sure thing! Remember, when you want a tasty treat, you can't go wrong with pistachios! They're the yummiest!"
"Bye, Captain Pistachio!" said Frankie and Debbie.
"Bye, kids! I'll tell the Easter Bunny you said hi!"
"I'm sorry—one more question," said Mildred.
"What?"
"When you opened your hand-shells and poured nuts into their hands, where did those come from?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Had you been carrying them the whole time?"
"I still don't get what you're asking."
"Now that I've had a chance to think about it, it just seems odd that you didn't bring a bag of pistachios. Why would you pour them out of your hands like that? Where did they come from?"
Captain Pistachio glared at her. "Are you accusing me of excreting pistachios?"
"From your hands? God, no!"
"Wait, that's not what I meant. Are you accusing me of secreting pistachios?"
"No. I wasn't accusing you of anything. It was a simple question. Where did the pistachios come from?"
"If you offered a handful of nuts to my children, I wouldn't suggest that they were produced by your body."
"I'm not a giant anthropomorphic nut."
"The answer is no, my body does not produce pistachios, okay?" Captain Pistachio held up his hands. "See these? To you, they may look like some grotesque deformity, something a soldier might have attached to the bloody stumps of his wrists after he gets his hands blown off in combat. To me, they're normal, because I'm a fucking magical pistachio man. Hands made of pistachio shells are very convenient for carrying around pistachios. So you can just suck my salty, unshelled dick, lady."
"Frankie, Debbie, go upstairs," said Mildred, backing away from the angry pistachio man.
"No! The kids stay where they are! I came here to offer you a healthy snacking alternative, to make life a little easier for you, but instead you act like I'm some depraved freak with a self-cannibalism fetish! Do you think it's easy to be Captain Pistachio? Do you think I get to go out and have normal social outings? Do you think I've ever felt the sensual touch of a woman? All I do is go around giving my little performance for ungrateful hags like you! Would it kill your moon-faced kids to eat a piece of broccoli every once in a while? Nooooo, all they want is candy and ice cream, so I'm here to offer something that'll keep the spoiled little shits from having temper tantrums!"
"Frankie, Debbie, go upstairs now!" Mildred shouted. "Run! Lock your bedroom door!"
Frankie and Debbie fled the kitchen, screaming.
"That was your worst mistake yet," said Captain Pistachio, stepping in front of the doorway between the kitchen and living room. "The only thing keeping you alive is that I would never murder a mother in front of her children, but there's nothing stopping me now!"
Mildred ran for the back door. She frantically turned the knob. The door wouldn't open.
"It's no use," said Captain Pistachio with a cartoon sneer. "I've already barricaded it."
"But why?"
"Do you think I'm greeted with universal adoration? Sometimes when families see me they freak the fuck out. I can't have the people calling the cops about an intruder in a giant pistachio costume, now, can I?"
"It's a costume?"
Captain Pistachio shook his head. "No. But when people see me, their first assumption is that I'm a guy in a costume. I mean, that was your first thought, right? Your brain went to 'guy in costume' before 'giant living pistachio creature,' right?"
Mildred said nothing.
Captain Pistachio smiled so widely that his magic-marker mouth stretched beyond the borders of his face and the edges floated in mid-air. But then the smile disappeared, and he gazed at her with true hatred. "I've killed a lot of people, Mildred. A lot of people. My soul is a dark abyss. Whenever I close my eyes, I see rivers of blood, and I see the screaming faces of my countless victims being carried away in the crimson current. I am haunted, Mildred. So very haunted."
"I could put you out of your misery," Mildred offered.
"Bitch, I didn't say I was suicidal. If I wanted to die, I'd just pry my head open." Captain Pistachio frowned, as if regretting making a comment about how easily he could be killed.
Mildred ran at him, arms outstretched.
Captain Pistachio slammed his open hand into her chest. The sharp ends of his shells sank deep into her warm, tender flesh. Mildred cried out in pain but did not fall. Captain Pistachio stabbed her with his other hand. He stared into her eyes, loving the expression of terror, waiting for that glorious moment when the light in her eyes would fade as sweet death consumed her.
She spat bloody saliva into his face, defiant.
Then she grabbed his head with both hands.
"Noooo!" he cried. Yeah, blabbing about his weakness had indeed been poor strategy.
She pried the shell apart, and both halves fell to the floor, leaving a desiccated, light green pistachio exposed. It had cloudy eyes with a milky substance leaking from them, two slits for a nose, and a thin, uneven mouth.
"Don't look at me!" Captain Pistachio wailed. "Avert your cursed gaze!"
But Mildred couldn't look away. The face under the shell wasn't charming. It was nightmarish. She would never have let this monster feed pistachios to her children if she'd seen his true visage.
Mildred leaned forward and took a bite out of his face. A pistachio was softer than a peanut, and it put up little resistance.
"Stop it! Stop—"
Mildred tore his mouth off with her own, cutting off his scream. She chewed his mouth and swallowed. Then she ate away at the top of his head, hoping to devour his brain.
Captain Pistachio fell to the floor. He lay there, unmoving. Dead.
"Burn in hell," Mildred told him. She didn't know if magical pistachio men went to hell, but wherever he was, she hoped an eternity of suffering awaited him.
She could hear her blood dripping onto the tile floor. Her wounds were fairly serious, but she was pretty sure she had a while before she bled to death. She'd scoop a bowl of ice cream for Debbie and find a candy bar for Frankie, and then she'd drive herself to the hospital.