| I watched his pudgy face devour the ho-ho. The cream filled kind. The tubby little
man did not even stop to savor the ho-ho; I wasn't even sure he was enjoying it. He didn't love the ho-ho. I loved
the ho-ho. He just ate them; like a savage. "Hey pal," I said, making sure to make eye contact. His beady little eyes widened. He quickly brushed away the crumbs that had collected on his lips. I watched as the crumbs fell slowly to the floor, my eyes following their trajectory until their eventual collision with the white tiled floor. My gaze returned to his fat mouth as he began to speak. "What is…" His mouth opened and closed, like a fishing gasping for air. I could see the ho-ho crumbs on his upper lip, the portly bastard. "...the problem?" he said in an agitated voice. The bastard, the fat little dildo had the nerve to front an attitude with me. He turned his back to me, and began to walk away, further down the snack aisle. I could sense where he was heading next, tasty cakes. Tasty cakes have long been the cream of the snack food proverbial crop. They've always been high on the ladder. Manufactured in Philadelphia they've become a cultural sensation; their influence stretching all the way to Japan. Yes, even the Japanese like the taste of a tasty cake. The world likes tasty cakes. To my right the surviving ho ho's huddled together, screaming, "Kill him!" On the left the Twix bars pleaded with me to stop the pudgy fat man. Their logic was they were inevitably next on the man's shopping list. He waddled down the aisle, the fluorescent lights coating his balding head like a glazed donut, which were, by the way, yelling for help. "HELP!" I stood frozen, nervous at what my next course of action would be. Down the aisle a little ways the Snicker bars were melting in fear, the Milky Ways trying to hide. He continued to walk down the aisle, his fat little body bobbing up and down like a big lollipop. Suddenly he stopped near the end of the aisle, his eyes spotting the monarchs of all snack foods. The Tasty Cake Chocolate Muffins, with cream in the center. Nearby the Charleston Chews, packed like sardines in their box, pleaded for someone, something to stop the fat man from devouring the muffins. "He does not deserve them!" the Charleston chew's yelled desperately, "He can take us, let him take us!" The fat man stared blankly at the tasty cakes. The whole aisle was erupting into chaos. Snack foods were pleading, screaming, begging me to assist them. They had chosen me as their protector. |
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