"Do you know why he's called The Can?" I asked Kerrie.
"Go to hell. Why don't you just shoot?"
"I asked you if you knew,
really knew, why he's called The Can?"
"He pretends he's a garbage can. He eats... he eats whatever you put in his mouth. He swallows it and begs for more."
"Do me a favor and move a little closer to Mr. Can," I said, directing her towards the paralyzed figure in the corner. "Closer still, Kerrie. Right up against his body, as if you were riding him piggy-back. There, that's close enough."
"Close enough for what?" she asked, a satisfying quiver of fear in her voice.
Then I set my plans in motion... and her body began to sink down into his. She struggled. She even screamed. But this was not a place where screams were taken seriously at first. Besides, the door was heavy, and it was locked. I continued my conversation with Kerrie as a monologue, since she was sinking fast into the flabby man's flesh and had begun choking on her own horror.
"You're right about Mr. Can. He does eat whatever you, or someone like you, puts in his mouth. But he also eats other things. He's not just a garbage can, Kerrie. What you never knew about Mr. Can is that not only does he have a secret life that he lives out in places like this. He also has a
secret secret life that he would never have told you about. By night he's the human garbage can you know but probably do not love. In an even darker night of his soul, Mr. Can is... he's, well there's just no subtle way I can say this. He's a cannibal. And soon you're going to be made one with him - your brain buried inside of his brain, your nervous system integrated into his, and your desires bound to his desires. Unfortunately you will be denied all muscular control. You'll exist something like a parasite organism inside him. A tapeworm if you like. But he won't be bothered by you. He'll continue to eat as you've always known him to eat. And you will know that you are eating the same things. He will also eat as you never knew him to eat. There are others like him, and he is in league with them. Mostly they consume homeless persons who have fallen unnoticed by the wayside. Sometimes they give them a little help in their going. On rare occasions they eat living food. Are you aware of the word that cannibals who once occupied islands in the South Pacific used for 'human being?' It translates as 'the food that talks.' Mr. Can and others of his kind live to eat. I know that was never your style, Kerrie, but from now on it will be... as long as Mr. Can lives. And you know what: he's even made special preparations with his fellow cannibals for the day when he will be too dead to chew his food. It seems to be their desire, don't ask me why, that after their demise they be buried naked in secret ground. After their life of eating is over, their final wish is to become food for other forms of life. It's rather spiritual, don't you think? The great circle of being and all that. Of course, just because Mr. Can is dead doesn't necessarily mean that you'll join him. You're so much younger, so much healthier - even given your anorexic mania - than he is. I'm guessing that the little parasite inside him will outlive his body by a certain term, although I can't say how long that will be. Can you still hear me, Kerrie? You're sliding down into him so fast. It's almost as if you can't wait to get inside. Prick up your ears if you'd like to hear more."
But she was gone. And so was I.
"Wake up, Mr. Can," I said to the man in the corner just before I left the room.
Thomas Ligotti - "My Work Is Not Yet Done"
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