A happy fruit plucked from the branches. Jolly and round, its smooth surface reflects a resplendent red glow. Its refreshing juices stream through the thin canals of the thick pulp within. Divided into a thousand sloshy bits, it slides down your dry throat, soothing your parched tongue; its sweet residue sticks to your lips. The happy fruit nestles in the pit of your stomach, making whole your incomplete. Your body warms in rapturous gratitude and affection. Reach for another, indulgent devourer of pulpy confection! The second is as jolly, round, juicy, glowing, sloshy, soothing, and sweet as the first! Have another - and yet another still! Feast upon them! Pluck a bushel of them to take home to your kin! Or have the bushel for yourself! Feel your skin and clothes tighten around the blubbery fat accumulating above your humble structure; you feel warmer and warmer still as your outer layers pull taut against you. The more you consume, the more you are gratified with sensations of warmth and fullness, and so you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And as what were muscles and tendons deteriorate, you eat still. And as you roll about unable to tell hind from front, you eat still. And as the happy fruits deplete, you eat still. And as the bark and branch tear at the lining of your throat, you eat still. And as your worrying heart struggles to lessen its pace, emitting a scalding heat across the paunchy expanse of your chest, you eat still. And as the frightened children flee your ferocious grasp, you eat still. And as the cowering township slips sustenance under their bolted doorways onto the verandas, you eat still. And as the contents of every home swim within your gargantuan belly, you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And you eat still. And when I asked you if you were satisfied, the foul stenches of death and waste and digestional emissions filled the air - but of all the putrid odors which poured out of your stinking mouth, the most nauseating of all was that of pride when your gurgling voice triumphantly declared, "Never".
