Trailer park, third row from the left, second from the end of the row, lemon yellow with white trim. Looked like a packaged pastry. Little Debbie cakes from from middle school lunches. The icing like plaster.

A man in the doorway, sinewy, unshaven, sleeveless t-shirt, jeans with a tin of chewing tobacco in the back pocket, hunting camo baseball cap with the Waste Management logo. He was holding a tallboy of Yuengling.

He smiled like he’d been told a joke “You must be the kid.”

The boy in his school uniform shrugged. The blazer was too big for him. He’d lost weight over the past year.

“Just call me Tierney.” Said the man.

“Shane.” Replied the boy.

“C’mon in.”

Tierney sat on a secondhand couch whose cushions were running threadbare, festooned with pills like skin tags. Shane walked towards a salvaged office chair as the man spread out, cracking his neck.

“So the first thing I always like to do when people with our problem are sent to me for advice is to ask the obvious question; how did it happen?”

“I think I’d prefer not to say.”

Tierney frowned, leaning forward from his couch. “See that’s no good. That’s a bad first impression you’re making here, Shane. I want you to see this from my perspective here. I don’t know you. You were referred to me because we have the same problem. I just wanna know how you came to have our problem. We don’t have to be best buddies. Helps to have friends, but it can’t always happen, I get that. But there’s gotta be trust here. I’ve shown my trust, you’re in my home. Now show me your trust.”

Shane started studying the shag carpeting. The trailer smelled like dog.

Tierney leaned back again, sipping his beer. “Alright then, out the way you came, I guess.”

“Heroin.”

Tierney got that humorous look again. “Beg yer pardon?”

“I was shooting heroin with some guys and we were sharing a needle and then it started happening. I dunno, I can’t think of any other way it could have happened.”

“You’re the only one, though? None of the other guys-”

“No, and I stole the needle. Got rid of it.”

“Good. Smart. Smart. No idea who-”

“None. It’s a popular spot. Dozens of people move through there.”

“Never heard of that before, I’m gonna be honest. You’re a real new-age case.”

“Great.”

Tierney looked antsy on the couch. He leaned forward again, took off his cap so the boy could look into his eyes. “Listen, I appreciate that, what you did. I know it’s not easy.”

“Yeah, sure man I feel really brave and honest now can you please help me?”

“Sure, sure, sure, what do you wanna know?”

“Anything, anything!” cried Shane.

“Sure, sure, chill, brother. You want a beer? Want a dip?”

“I’m only sixteen.”

“Did I ask?”

“I’ll take the beer.”

Tierney rose from the couch and returned with another tallboy, sweating with fat drops of condensation. Shane cracked it open and sipped.

“So, if you just want advice for dealing with our problem, I’ll keep it general and you can just prod me in whichever direction you feel is best, okay? Okay. Now to start with, I’ll say you’ll never get anywhere working against it. It’s not like the movies. Don’t bother with locked motel rooms or any of that stuff. You wanna structure your life in such a way where the problem is just a part of your routine. With me so far? So the best piece of practical advice I can offer is to get an outdoor hobby. Hiking, camping, fishing, hunting, hunting’s best, I reckon. That way you don’t even have to lie. You disappear and, well, you go hunting. What I do is I drive out into the sticks, I park the car, I leave one set of clothes in a tree bag, another in my truck, the problem hits me, I get it out of my system, and then I wake up in the morning and drive home. Now I’m gonna let you ask me the question, go ahead, it’s the one everyone asks. It’s on the tip of your tongue, I can see it.”

Shane shifted his weight, wetted his dry tongue with lager, and said; “How do you know you won’t kill someone?”

“Because you’re gonna be out in the middle of nowhere and no one is gonna be around. Even if they are, there’s better meals to be had. People don’t taste good at all. We taste like shit. Meat’s too tough. There’s a whole world of new flavors open to you, now that you have this problem. There’s far more appealing options than people. Like I said, you gotta put the movies out of your mind. You’re not evil, just an animal. Animals have favorite foods too. Me personally, I gotta tell you, there’s nothing like a raw rabbit, especially right before winter when they’re nice and fat. Rabbits are maybe a bit above your pay grade for now though. They’re fast and clever and they survive by hiding places you can’t reach. Deer are good for beginners. They don’t have natural predators anymore so they grow up real dumb.”

Shane mumbled something into the echoing mouth of his beer can.

“Beg yer pardon?” Asked Tierney.

“Just us unnatural predators.”

Tierney laughed “That’s a good one, I like that. Hey here’s a story; I got back from driving my truck just in time for the full moon one time, like I’m talking I beat the deadline by minutes. I didn’t have time for dinner. Woke up near the state park the next day, I’d eaten the whole hindquarters off a bull elk. There I am, stark naked, covered in elk blood, using the thing’s belly for a pillow, I wake up and a family of black bears comes in to ask after my leftovers. Black bears can be very friendly animals. Those cubs are all grown now. Still see ‘em around sometimes.” He sipped his beer, his mouth had grown dry as well. “That reminds me of a few tangents, actually. First; some people will tell you that you can limit your activity by eating a big meal before you get the problem. That’s never worked for me. Your mileage may vary. Secondly; interaction with the other wildlife is a good reason to go with my system, pick a territory and go there regularly, the other animals in the area will get to know you and recognize you as the apex predator. I’ve never had a problem with coyotes or mountain lions, they know they have no chance. Finally; as far as a career goes; you obviously have to do what works for you but I’ve found long-haul trucking is a very nice fit. You’ll find it’s fairly easy to be nocturnal now, just gotta take days off when you’re gonna have your problem. Now this is the part where I’ll let you ask the other question everyone asks.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t. It’s like, amateurish.”

“Well you don’t have to but it’s only natural to ask so feel free to do so whenever. I’m not gonna think less of you for asking it. Longer you wait, longer it’ll gnaw at you.”

Shane looked down at the carpet, looked up at Tierney, asked: “Is there a cure?”

“Not that I’m aware of, no. Though you’ll hear things from time to time. People get sick of living like this. Not me, of course. But I had a buddy one time who wanted to give it a try. Did some traveling with him, looking into it. Last I heard he was down in New Mexico or Arizona someplace looking for some peyote shaman who’s supposedly a specialist in our problem. Always got the strong impression that sort of thing was a scam, myself. People want things to be some way other than they are. No point in it, I reckon. You’re better off finding good in your own circumstances rather than wasting a lot of time trying to change them. Change happens naturally either way. Forcing it is where people go wrong, in my experience.” Tierney shifted and looked to and fro like he was just noticing his own living situation. “I know this doesn’t look like much, but I got all sorts of money. I own my own truck. It’s all paid off. I got investments, got a little plot in my name up in the hills, gonna build a house and settle down. Was honestly the best thing I learned traveling with my buddy. We met these folks like us in Finland, got this great big family lodge up in the Lapland, snow up to your shoulders, beautiful country. I thought to myself; that’s the way to do it. Go find a wild place of your own and rule it. S’my last piece of advice for you. Find yourself a few friends in the community, I’ll be your first. Once you got that circle firmed up, think about getting yourself a mate. It’s a lonely way to live, between full moons. Having someone who’s living on your time goes a long way.”

“You know, something you said, it made me realize something.”

“What?”

“The bit about finding good in these circumstances- I just realized. Ever since the last full moon, I haven’t wanted to get high. The craving’s just gone.”

“Well shit, cheers to that, buddy.”

The screen door creaked open and then flew in an inwards arc, letting a giddy, shouting toddler in, followed by a tall, pale, dark haired woman in a wool pea coat. The toddler ran in figure eights around the interior of the trailer as Tierney rose to chase the child, who, after a cursory study to cut through the mucous and ambiguity of partial development; Shane identified as a girl. The woman deposited paper bags of groceries on the water-warped kitchen counter as Tierney captured the girl and lifted her up, planting kisses on her cheeks and in her curly hair as she laughed and play-struggled away. It was becoming clear to any observer that this was a well-rehearsed routine for the Tierney family.

“Thank you.” Said the woman, tall, confident, far better groomed than Tierney. She spoke with a noticeable accident, the broad vowels and resonant dipthongs of Scandinavia crossed with a posh English grammar tutor.

“Oh you know it’s my pleasure, I just can’t help myself when my girls get home. Freya, this is our new friend Shane. He’s recently begun to have our problem. I was just about to invite him over next time we get a full moon. Thought we could show him a good time.”

“Hmm, maybe. If he doesn’t mind being a- what’s the expression? Third wheel?”

“Aww, I’m sure Shane can be a good sport about things. Can’t ya?”

Tierney drew close to beckon the boy’s reply. He held the toddler in the crook of his arm, letting her sit on his tattooed bicep. The little girl had yellow eyes.

– J.W. Yablonsky

Author’s Note: “Our Problem” can be thought of in two ways. First, as a failed attempt at writing flash fiction; second, as a spiritual successor to my first published short story, “The Immortal Dreams of Sourdough.” I find that it creates consistently interesting character interactions when I write on mythic or monstrous beings dealing with the messy, mundane business of being a person.