Fatten 'Em Up

Fatten ‘Em Up

I giant balloon with GRAND OPENING on the front sat atop the restaurant.  Me, along with countless others, were drawn to that balloon.  It was calling us.  Promising to satiate our hungers ten times over.  I stared up at it as I walked into the small restaurant lobby. We were  herded like a cattle through a long and winding line.  Dozens of hungry, sweaty cows thankful to escape the blazing sun were packed single-file.  My stomach grumbled as I neared the register.  Before I could get through the turnstile and into the corral of food on the other side, I had to pay.  Just beyond the gates I could see piles of fried chicken.  Green bean casserole steamed underneath blinding lights.  And way off in the distance I could just make out soft serve ice cream.  The air smelled of burnt meat and cleaning materials.  

A young cashier greeted me with a cheerful smile and asked what kind of drink I wanted.  I found it strange that an all-you-can-eat buffet didn’t have the soda fountains out in the open.  Instead, my drinks were served to me by a sort-of waitress.  

I smiled at the cashier, “I’ll have a Diet...Coke.”  I stumbled over the word “diet” and it fell out of my mouth in a jumbled mess.  There’s something just not right about drinking a Diet Coke at a buffet.  

She smiled back at me and handed me the receipt.  Yes, I just ordered a Diet Coke.  No, I don’t think that it’s going to counterbalance the sickening amount of food I’m going to eat.  I like the taste, okay?

An older lady whisked me through the turnstile and guided me to my table.  I glanced around at what other people were eating, silently judging them as I passed.  You have a giant pile of food on that plate, and two others only half eaten sitting on either side of you.  Shame on you sir for being so wasteful.  Chicken and mushrooms?  Madame, I must say, how can you stomach such garbage?

The waitress pointed to my table.  I thanked her and darted towards the islands of food.  The plates were stacked in the center.  I grabbed one and made my way past each and every dish.  On one end pepperoni pizza and spaghetti sat waiting to be eaten.  A few yards further I came across the Chinese food portion of the buffet.  Lo mein and orange chicken were piled high.  Then the regular fare of mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese.  

First things first, I needed a salad.  I had to be sensible, and a salad with three boiled-eggs, bacon bits, shredded cheese, croutons, drowned in ranch dressing was the only sensible thing to eat.  After eating healthy, It was time for my second trip.  Already I was feeling full, but it was all-you-can-eat and damnit I was going to get my money’s worth.  A few drumsticks and steaks later and it was time for my third.  At this point my mind was swirling from all the grease.  My money’s worth played on a constant loop in my head.  

Somewhere during my fourth or fifth trip,  with options running low, I came across some sort of brownish-yellow mush.  The sign above the dish read “Chicken and Green Bean Casserole”.  Now, had I been anywhere else I might have stopped myself.  I might have considered the hypocrite I would have been if I ate it.  But i was in Golden Corral.  So I did what any American would do and filled my plate with the stuff.  Was I hungry?  Was this being completely wasteful?  Was I only taking this fourth or fifth plate to get my money’s worth?  Those are questions that I failed to ask myself that day.  

A few hours later, when I could stomach no more, I slowly rose from my table and headed for the doors.  I approached the front of the lobby and tried to make my way back through the turnstile.  

“Sir, sir you can’t go through those,” The young cashier said with urgency.

“What do you mean?”  My head was swirling.  My stomach bulged and I found it hard to think.

“That’s where you came in.  You have to head through those doors.  Those doors are the exit.”  She pointed to the other end of the lobby.

I waved at her and turned around.  I stopped and looked around at the hundreds of others stuffing their faces.  Something felt wrong.  Probably some bad chicken.  I blinked twice and headed for the exit.  

Mark and the Magical Carrot - From 'Classical Fairy Tales and Life Lessons' by Jonathan Miller

Mark was sitting eating a salad one Monday afternoon when he went to take a bite of his carrot.  He brought the stalk up to his mouth and bit down.

“Ouch!”

Alarmed, Mark dropped the carrot on the table and looked down.

“Why are you biting me? Why would you ever bite a living thing like that?”

Mark stared down at a large talking carrot. His eyes were wide. “How are you talking to me? Are you some sort of magical carrot?”

“Yes, I am a magical carrot, and I will grant you five wishes.”

This made Mark very happy for he had never met a magical carrot before, and also because he didn’t have any friends. “Well my first wish is for you to be my best friend in the whole world!”

The carrot twisted and shook. Tiny sparks flew out the top of its head. It gasped, “Your wish has been granted.”

“And what should I call you?”

“Just call me Carrot.”

Overjoyed, Mark took Carrot and gave him the biggest hug he had ever given anyone, or anything, in his entire life. “We shall have the most fun in the entire world, Carrot! First things first, I think we should go get something to eat.”

So off they went, Mark and Carrot, to go eat at the fanciest restaurant Mark could afford.  Which was the local soup kitchen.  Mark didn’t have a job, or any money. He just didn’t possess the social skills to obtain any sort of job whatsoever.

Carrot looked around at the old, stinky soup kitchen. “Wait, so this is where we’re eating?

Mark felt ashamed, “Yes, Carrot. It’s all that I can afford. But the soup here is just swell! You should try the chicken noodle soup, oh my! it’s so scrumptious.”

“You know, Mark, you could uh, just wish for a billion dollars...”

He wasn’t listening though. Instead, Mark was staring at all the delicious soups he could choose from.  There was chicken noodle, pea soup, tomato soup. The choices seemed endless.  “Wow Carrot, have you ever seen so many soups? I wish all I could ever eat was soups for the rest of my life!”

Carrot twisted and shook. Tiny sparks flew out the top of its head. It gasped, “Your wish has been granted.”

“Wait what? That wasn’t a wish!”

“You said ‘I wish’. It’s a wish Mark. Now shut up and lets eat.”

“Well, I guess it is a pretty swell wish. Now I can eat soup all I want!

They walked up to the counter. A large, sweaty, balding man was waiting to take their order. “Whadya want?” He said, as snot dripped out of his nose.

“Well, I’ll take a bowl of your chicken noodle soup please. And Carrot, what would you like? I’m buyin’” Mark winked at Carrot.

It sighed, “The pea soup I suppose.”

The fat man wiped the snot from his nose with the back of his hand and grumbled, “Ya want bread?”

Mark squealed like a schoolgirl and clapped his hands, “Oh yes! Bread would be just great. Thank you sir!”

The two went and sat at a table next to a smelly homeless person. “Mind if we join you?” Mark said.

The homeless man let out a large fart.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Mark dug into his soup, swallowing it by the spoonful. He picked up the bowl and slurped the remainder down his throat and went for the moldy bread. “My, this bread is delicious!”

Carrot stared up at Mark, not eating a thing.

Mark felt a stinging pain in his stomach. He grabbed it and fell to the floor.  “Owwwww, my tum tum! It hurts!”

“You wished that you could only eat soup for the rest of your life.”

Sweat was dripping down Mark’s face, “What? That’s not fair! That’s not what I meant at all!”

The homeless man let out another long fart.

“Fair is fair, Mark. Carrot floated above Mark, who was now shaking on the floor, “Your body is unable to digest that bread that you just ate. It doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Mark’s eyes widened, “Well make it stop!”

Short, staccato farts burst from the homeless man. The smell was putrid.

“Sir, could you please stop farting right in my face?!”

The homeless man grinned, “What’s the matter boy? Don’t like the smell of my ass?”

The aroma was making Mark’s head spin, “No, in fact I don’t. They smell like death to me!”

“Smell like a dozen roses to me, boy,” the man started to laugh.

“I wish you could smell your own farts the way I smell your nasty farts you sick old man!”

Carrot twisted and shook. Sparks flew from the top of its head. “Your wish has been granted.”

Suddenly, the homeless man grabbed at his throat. “What’s that smell?” He stood up and stumbled around the kitchen. He waived his hands in front of his face as one long, continuous fart spilled from the man’s ass. “I. Can’t. Breathe!” He fell to the ground and lay still.

Mark looked at Carrot, “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you? You were the one that wished it, not me.” Carrot floated down and sat upon Mark’s forehead. “Now, you should probably do something about that stomach situation. I fear it might be fatal.”

“Fine! I wish I could digest bread,” He spoke through clenched teeth. “AND I wish you were dead!”

Carrot twisted and shook. Sparks flew from the top of its head. “Your wishes have been granted,” And then, just like that, Carrot toppled over, motionless.

Mark’s stomach immediately felt better. He picked Carrot off the ground and got to his feet.  “Fuck you Carrot, you piece of shit.”  Mark took Carrot by the stalk and ate him whole.  “Now, you will be nothing but shit.”

Mark walked back to his home.  He was almost there when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his stomach.  “Owwwwwww!” Mark fell to the ground and rolled into a ball. “My tum tum, what’s wrong with it?” He could hear laughter coming from inside his stomach.

Carrot burst from his chest, spraying blood in every direction. He floated above Mark’s pale face. “Hello there Mark.”

“How, how are you...” Blood gurgled up from his throat.

“Oh, well you wished that you could digest bread. But that doesn’t mean you can digest CARROTS!

Mark couldn’t speak. Blood filled his mouth and spilled from his lips.  He stared up at Carrot who was floating just above him.

“And you also wished that I was dead.  And I WAS dead. I was dead before I was alive, so technically your wish has come true.” Carrot jammed his body into Mark’s eyes.  He stabbed at them over and over. But Mark was already dead.

“Fuck you Mark.” Carrot laughed as he floated off into the sunset.