Writing Prompt: Doctors are now being hunted. But why?

I poked my head around, scouting the street for any sign of life. It looked deserted. My path to the grocery store, just across the way, seemed clear. I was going to go for it.

I dashed around the corner, picking up the pace, my feet flapping against the ground as I broke into a sprint. Forty yards. Thirty. Twenty. I was almost to those automatic sliding doors…

“There’s one! Fat-shamer!”

Oh, no. I had been spotted! I risked a glance over my shoulder. A blob had come stumbling around the corner, flapping her arms weakly at me as she waddled forward. Judging by the vast expanses of pink cloth draped over her in a vague sort of dress, I guessed that she was female. She was holding some sort of large cylinder in one hand, and droplets were flying into the air around her from it as she waved it back and forth.

I could outrun her. I could make it into the grocery store. My stomach let out a gurgle, reminding me of my hunger. But this woman would undoubtedly summon up more of her kind, would form a blockade. Would I be able to escape?

Another rumble of hunger came from my belly. The blobs left the fruits and vegetables alone for the most part, as well as most of the “low-fat” options. But being forced to subsist on these foods alone meant that I was always short of energy, always needing to replenish my stores. All of the processed foods, the high-energy, high-calorie protein options, were long gone. Inhaled by the blobs.

In the time that I had hesitated, the woman had managed to take another few steps towards me, rocking back and forth from tree trunk to tree trunk to advance. “Fat-shamer!” she wheezed again. Now that she was closer, I could see that she was waving one of the new Mega-Size(TM) cans of Diet Coke. “Healthy at any size!”

Screw it, I suddenly decided. “It’s not genetic, it’s lifestyle!” I roared at her. “Calories in needs to be less than calories out!”

The woman’s face darkened to a very unhealthy shade of purple and she lurched forward again, sputtering noises escaping from her mouth. I turned tail and dashed into the store, my white coat flapping behind me. I was faster, more agile, but she had numbers on her side. I had to move fast.

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