The Hunger Pains: A Parody by the Harvard Lampoon—read the first chapter!

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A touchstone bookPublished by Simon & Schuster

New York London Toronto Sydney New Delhi

the hArvArd lAmpoon


4/17

THE

H U N G E R

PA I N SA PARODY


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Touchstone

A Division o Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue o the Americas

New York, NY 10020

Copyright 2012 by The Harvard Lampoon

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book

or portions thereo in any orm whatsoever. For inormation address

Touchstone Subsidiary Rights Department,

1230 Avenue o the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Touchstone trade paperback edition February 2012

TOUCHSTONE and colophon are registered

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Edited by Charles A. Sull, Jonathan D. Adler, and Allison L. Averill

Designed by Joy OMeara

Manuactured in the United States o America

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Library o Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Harvard Lampoon (Organization)

The hunger pains : a parody / The Harvard Lampoon.

p. cm.

1. Collins, Suzanne. 2. Hunger Games

Parodies, imitations, etc. I. Title.

PS3600.A6 H33 2012

813'.6 2011040718

ISBN 978-1-4516-6820-9

ISBN 978-1-4516-6821-6 (ebook)


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1

I awake to the sound of a growling stomach. Its not mine.Its the cats. Shut up, Butterball, I moan, as I push him o

the bed. He hits the ground with a thud. Bark! goes the

cat. I try to go back to sleep but its no use. Today is SuperFun Day.

I tiptoe across the dirt oor to the other side o the room to

avoid waking my mother. Butterball has recovered rom crash-

ing into the oor and licks my leg annoyingly. Hes hungry.

I look in the cabinet or some ood. The cabinet is where

we keep our small ood supply. Its also where my little sistersleeps. Her name is Prin, which is short or Princess. Butter-

ball is Prins cat. When I open the cabinet, Prin is snuggled

up against an empty box o cookies. She looks so cute.

The only thing I see or Butterball to eat is a small pile

o moldy carrots. I careully reach my hand into the cabinet

and grab them. Prin stirs or a moment but doesnt wake up.Phew! I say, really loudly. Now she wakes up.
http://www.hungerpainsbook.com/


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Close the cabinet, you idiot! she shouts.

Im sorry, I say. I lean in to give her a peck on the

cheek, but she slams the cabinet door in my ace.

I toss the carrots down to Butterball. He looks up at

me and growls. You see, Butterball and I are not exactly the

closest o riends. I remember when Prin frst brought him

home. He was the biggest, ugliest cat I had ever seen, weigh-

ing probably fty pounds, with a wet, black nose and oppy

ears and a tongue that just wouldnt stay in his mouth butinsisted on slurp, slurp, slurping all over the place. His thick

golden ur was ull o eas, and every time I threw a rubber

newspaper out the window, the dumb old cat would run to

retrieve it and bring it back, panting. He was repulsive.

No way, Prin, I said at the time, you cant keep him.

Then I led Butterball outside to drown him in the puddleat the end o our driveway, but the puddle was so shallow

that his long snout wouldnt ft under the water. Fine, I

relented, you can keep the stupid cat.

So we kept Butterball. Not many people have pets where

Im rom. I live in District 12, one o twelve districts that

make up Peaceland. District 12 is the poorest district. Whilesome aectionately call it the Dirty Dozen, most call it a

Terrible Place to Live. My neighborhood, the worst in Dis-

trict 12, is known as the Crack.

I look down at Butterball as he chows down on those

delicious rotting carrots. I should have saved a ew or my-

sel. For a moment, I envy Butterball. Today is just anotherordinary day or that dumb cat. Hell chase his tail and catch


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Frisbees in the park without a care in the world. But or me,

today is dierent. Its Super Fun Day.

The sun is rising. Its time to hunt. I pull my boots out

rom under the bed, the pair my ather gave me beore he

died. Once theyre on, Im ready to go. Im careul not to let

the door slam on my way out. Once it closes sotly, I open

up the mail slot and yell back into the house, Im going

hunting! I set o to meet my hunting partner, Carol Hand-

somestein.The streets o District 12 are eerily empty today. The reg-

ular clatter o keyboards and ringing o telephones that usu-

ally flls the air has allen silent as the anxious pall brought by

the arrival o Super Fun Day descends over the town like a

pillow and duct tape over the ace o an unwanted pet.

A man raises the District 12 ag outside his house as Iwalk by. Its black, like all the ags in merry old Peaceland. In

the center, theres a golden telephone. Each district special-

izes in one industry, and District 12 is the telemarketing dis-

trict. Along with the other districts, District 12 once rose up

in rebellion against the Capital, which is where all the rich

and powerul people o Peaceland live. That didnt go toowell. In act, it went horribly. How horribly? Well, there used

to be two hundred districts. Lesson learned.

In order to ensure nobody ever orgets that the rebellion

ailed and the Capital won and they are in charge and blah,

blah, blah, each year they make all twelve districts participate

in what is called the Hunger Games. Every district selectstwo kids, one boy and one girl, to represent them in a big


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competition. These two kids are called tributes, which is

short or tributary, which is a stream or river that ows into a

main stem (or parent) river or a lake.

The Hunger Games arent exactly un. I Im being totally

honest, Id say they suck. Since there are twelve districts, and

two tributes rom each one, you know there are at least . . .

twenty tributes in total. All o them are thrown into an arena

somewhere in the wilderness where they have to kill one an-

other until theres only one tribute let. And its all televised.Most people TiVo it so they can ast orward to the killing.

Now, when they frst started, the Hunger Games werent

so bad. The Capital gathered all the tributes and televised

them doing some pretty un stu: sotball tournament, relay

race, obstacle course, and jumping rope. The main event

was a huge hot dogeating contest. Everybody would try toget extra hungry beore it began, hence the name Hunger

Games.

But ater a ew years, the tributes got so competitive with

one another that the Games turned violent. A punch in the

ace here, a kick in the crotch theresoon, the tributes were

at one anothers throats. And rather than putting a stop tothis madness, the Capital encouraged it. Ater all, it made

or great television. So they changed the rules. Instead o

un feld games and competitive eating, the Hunger Games

became a fght to the death. They still allow sotball, but no-

bodys ever in the mood anymore.

Super Fun Day is the day every year when each districtselects its tributes. Everybody gathers in the public square. At


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a certain time, all the kids in District 12 play the nose game.

The two kids who are last to touch their fngers to their noses

become tributes. This is also televised, and most people TiVo

it as well. It airs at the same time as Seinfeld reruns.

Thats why the streets are so quiet today. Everybody in all

o Peaceland has the day o rom work or Super Fun Day.

Attendance is mandatory. Anyone who doesnt show up or

the announcement risks getting the crap beaten out o them

by the Pacemakers, the bunch o elderly Capital thugs whoare in charge o each district but are otherwise pretty nice

people.

I think about all this as I walk toward the woods to meet

Carol. Im getting close to where we usually meet. Suddenly,

I hear a twig snap rom a ew eet away.

Think ast! a voice yells. My head turns just as an arrowwhizzes past my ace and lodges in the tree next to my head.

Its Carol.

No, you think ast! I say, and stab him in the leg. He

pulls out the knie and we laugh so much.

Nice one, Catpiss, he says. Thats not my real name.

My name is actually Kantkiss. Kantkiss Neverclean. Carolcalls me Catpiss because the frst time we met, I whispered

my name so sotly that he misheard me. And I had just

slipped in a puddle o cat urine. Ever since, Carol likes to

tease me by calling me Catpiss. Unortunately, I cant think

o any way to make un o his name.

Carol and I have known each other or years. Hes an ex-cellent hunter and hes incredibly good-looking. Even when


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hes pulling the guts out o a squirrel, he looks so dreamy. I

always let him take the frst bite o squirrel heart.

Together, we hunt or ood to eed our amilies and to

trade or supplies in District 12. There is a ourishing black

market in District 12, known as the Nob. At the Nob, Carol

and I oten trade with an old woman named Slimey Sue.

Shes amous or her soups and or having a ull mustache

and no teeth.

I hunt or my amily because my ather can no longerprovide or us. Dont worry, its not because hes lazy or

anythingits because hes dead. There was an explosion at

the telemarketing ofce where he worked. He had time to

call home just one last time, but his body was incinerated be-

ore he could fnish the sales pitch. He was halway through

the jingleAverills pudding / Tastes real good / Buy Averillspudding / Todaybut then he was blown to smithereens. I

wanted to tell him how much I was going to miss him, that

I promised take care o Prin and my mother orever, but he

wouldnt stop singing. He was a true telemarketer.

All right, lets hunt, Carol says, jolting me back to the

present. Carol runs his fngers through his hair, and or amoment, I orget that I live in poverty under an authoritarian

government and instead eel like Im the luckiest girl alive.

We reach the electric ence that separates District 12

rom the woods. Because o rolling power outages, its really

only electrifed or three or our hours each day, so its usually

sae to climb over. For this reason, I am grateul or the poweroutages. Theyre the worst or playing video games, though.


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Were not supposed to leave District 12, and doing so car-

ries a severe penalty. Not that they really need to deter people

rom leaving, considering all the deadly crap out beyond

the ence. Mamajams, wagalaks, and even some tuto birds

all roam ree. But theres also ood i you know how to fnd

it. Carol and I dont let ear keep us inside the ence, where

wed otherwise waste away to skin and bones in complete and

perect saety. District Twelve. Where the saety is good,

but other things are less good, I say. One o my many clevermaxims.

I step toward the ence. I try to hop over, but my leg gets

caught in one o the planks. Dropping down on my belly, I

try to shimmy my way under the ence, but I just cant suck

in my tummy to get low enough. Im stuck there wriggling

between the ence and the ground when Carol grabs my eetand pulls me out. Hes so strong, I think to mysel. Next I try

running straight through the ence, but that doesnt work ei-

ther. By now Im pretty dizzy. Finally, I spot a small gate about

our eet to my let. I unlatch the gate, push it open, and walk

through to the other side. Carol takes a ew steps back and

then proceeds to hurdle over the ence. Breathtaking.We walk along the ence or about hal a mile, ready to

hunt. Up ahead, we can see a barn. Carol whispers to me.

Ill go high and you go low. I nod back in agreement. I

quietly crouch down and start crawling. Carol walks upright

beside me. Were prepared or anything.

We arrive at the barn. Locked in a small wooden pen, ahandul o cows are grazing on the grass. The cows that arent


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grazing are eating slop out o a big wheelbarrow beside a nap-

ping armer. Worthy adversaries. My heart is racing. This is so

dangerous!

I load my bow and send an arrow ying. One o the cows

alls to the ground. We sprint toward it. Carol and I hog-tie

its legs and drag it back to the woods and back through the

electric ence. Back to civilization. Even the cow breathes a

sigh o relie beore Carol slits its throat.

I reach inside the cow and grab the meat. I hand Carolthe T-bone and the flet and keep the New York strip and por-

terhouse or mysel. It was a great hunt. My shrewdness and

courage will keep us alive or at least a ew more days.

That is, ifmy mother decides to actually cook or us. You

see, my mother is a horrible person. Ater my ather died,

she became really bummed out or some reason. She wouldhardly ever come out o her room. Prin and I would go or

days without so much as a single bagel bite. Thats when I

knew I would have to provide or the amily. I quickly learned

to identiy the edible berries in the supermarket, to iron

blouses, and to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Its

because o me the three o us are still alive.Super Fun Day is actually the only day o the year that

my mother looks orward to. Shes a huge Hunger Games

an. She cant get enough o them. So when they arrive each

year, she gets very excited. She goes knocking door-to-door to

make sure every person in District 12 attends the selection

ceremony. She even has a special hata Super Fun Dayhatthat she wears or the month leading up to Super Fun

Day in anticipation.


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I walk in the door to our house carrying the meat in my

arms. Prin is up and dressed, sitting on the oor with Butter-

ball. Here, Prin, I say, I got you some lunch or Super Fun

Day. Dont eat the meat raw. Ill have to cook it frst. With

little sisters you can never be too careul.

I can make my own lunch, Kantkiss. Im not a moron,

she says sweetly.

I love you, Prin, I say.

Just shut up.Prin and I are very close. Most o the time its the thought

o her starving to death that keeps me going day in and day

out. I promised my ather I would never let anything bad

happen to her, and Ill keep that promise. He also made me

promise Id never let anything bad happen to him, but I guess

I sort o dropped the ball on that one.I toss the meat into the sink and change into the clothes

my mother laid out or me. I tell Prin Ill see her at the selec-

tion ceremony, then I set o to get a good seat.

On the way, I run into a girl I know rom school. Her

name is Badge Underwear. Her ather is Mayor Underwear,

the mayor o District 12. Neither o us has any real riends, sowere usually orced to pair up or things like the three-legged

race and partners yoga.

Badge is wearing a pretty little sundress, not like the ugly

tube top my mom picked out or me. But its easy to wear

pretty clothes when you dont have to risk your lie hunting

every day, like I do.Shes wearing a magnifcent golden pin on her dress. Its

ash catches my eye. It has a golden ring that encircles an


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emblem that reads THE CAPITAL SUCKS! I stare at the

pin and wonder i it means something.

Hi, Kantkiss! she says. I just want to say good luck at

Super Fun Day. I hope neither o us gets picked.

I hope you get picked! I reply. I cant stand Badge.

Shes so stuck-up.

Very unny, she laughs, walking away.

Soon, I arrive at the public square. The only times peo-

ple ever come here are or Super Fun Day or to go to the postofce. Despite its oppressive rule and a tendency to murder

its citizens, Ive got to admit that the Capital runs a great post

ofce. Ive never had to wait in line or more than a couple o

minutes, and the censors are very polite when they read your

mail.

In the square, all the children o District 12 begin totake their places or the nose game. Many are practicing

intentlyplacing their hands at their sides, then shoot-

ing them up to their noses.

Ater everyone gets settled, three chairs are placed on

the stage. Mayor Underwear sits in the frst. Beside him is

the only person rom District 12 whos ever won the HungerGames, Buttitch Totalapathy. From what I can tell, hes busy

shouting to the gamblers in the ront row. Next to Buttitch,

and the frst to the podium, is Eu Poorpeople. This awul

woman serves as the liaison between the Capital and District

12 or the Hunger Games. Since she represents the Capital,

shes very unpopular here. And like everyone rom the Capi-tal, she speaks in a strange accent.


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Welcome, everyone, to da Super Fun Day! Eu says

into the microphone. The Capital accent, Im told, closely

resembles what used to be called a Jamaican accent. We

gonna have a great time out here today! Eu announces.

The moment is upon us. The nose game is about to

start. Girls will go frst. My heart is pounding. Theyre about

to pick two kids who have to go ar away, fght it out with a

bunch o strangers, and ace almost certain death. Just make

it quick, I think. As long as its not me, Prin, or Carol, I reallydont care who the tributes are. I do hope its that snotty brat

Badge, though.

Girls, are ya ready? Eu scans the crowd to ensure all

hands are down. Then, as is the custom, she says the slogan

o the Hunger Games: May da odds be eva in ya ava, mon!

The crowd grumbles back inaudibly. All right, on ma signal.Ready, set, go!

And with that, a thousand young hands shoot to their

aces. From the back o the crowd, I can hear my mother

blow her air horn. Ive been practicing a lot lately and get my

fnger on my nose in record time. Im a little o actually, so

my fnger goes up my nose, but its there, nonetheless. I lookaround searching or the poor soul who came in last. Just

then an image o a girls ace ashes up on the Jumbotron.

The newest tribute rom District 12.

Its Prin.

Crap.


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The Hunger Pains: A Parody by the Harvard Lampoon—read the first chapter!