Self-indulgence is good...

The job is packed and ready for pickup, tomorrow, and I am a wreck. Mainly from age, I know that. Feet hurt. Back, too. Brain fuzzy. So I found a McDonald's and had a Quarter Pounder Meal, sized up to large for a late dinner and found myself wonderfully decompressing.

I'm going to have as much fun as I can reworking The Beast into Dyarvos and the Cannibal Queer. For example, part of the reason Dirc winds up becoming Dyarvos' helper is because the ET was messing up the instructions on a cookbook it had. 

Dirc was dead but being rejuvenated to be alive enough to feed Dyarvos' space craft...only the process shifted his entire psychological, emotional, mental and attitude enough to where he became the missing ingredient in prepping men to be nourishment. And he continues to be after Dyarvos deserts him.

Later, Dyavos verifies the recipe with Irin, who becomes another helper while Dirc is being tried as a serial killer. The ET needs someone to furnish supply for its interstellar diner. Now I'm not toning down on the sex, so much as clarifying it. Making it simpler. The best meals come from regular ingredients, not all them foreign ones...and buff guys are as basic as it gets.

That's why diners are usually better fare than 4 Star restaurants. Simple food, well-made and filling, unlike haute cuisine, which is more pretty than nourishment.

I'd always rather have a BLT than Châteaubriand...