After watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers (which, as it happens, was screened in a Don Siegel Retrospective that very night), I checked the fridge for any unusually large and pointy brussell sprouts and didn't go to sleep until the Emeril show came on the Food Network, at which point waking up as a pod person seemed the preferrable option.
Food, unfortunately, seemed rather under-developed as an alien-o-meter. All we know is that pod people do not eat at restaurants. But I suspect the dispassionate pod people would not lick ice cream cones, follow the smell of bacon, or wax poetic about butter.
I'll know Foodgoat has been replaced when I wave Scharffen-Berger chocolate in front of him and he doesn't a) swoon, or b) descend into gleeful hysterics.
Strawberries are unlikely to root out the human in him, although strawberries always seem to crop up a lot in sci-fi as the emblem of humanity's lost link with nature (I think it comes up in the Firefly episode tonight which we'll all be watching anyway, right?). Is it the succulence, the juiciness, of ripe strawberries? The vibrant color? The fragility of the fruit? The transience, the shortness of its season?
In any case, if you see me screaming on the highway, you'll know the consumption of Kraft Easy Mac and protein drinks has risen to alarming levels, the West Side Market is stocking piles of nutritional supplements, and the pod people have taken over.
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