Gluttony

I’ll cut straight to the facts. I’m a fatty. I love food! You can’t blame me for not being able to resist those delectable temptations! I came from a rich family, which I’ll admit did spoil me. I never went a day without having 2, 3, even 4 servings. Now that I’m an adult, and now that I’ve moved out, I can eat even more without having to share my food! Who wouldn’t be happy about that? 
Today marked Thanksgiving day, my favorite holiday. I was honored to have been invited to my neighbors Thanksgiving dinner. They didn’t have anyone else to invite, which I found peculiar, since they were quite popular in the neighborhood, and had plenty of people whom they could’ve invited. I shrugged it off. The only thing I cared about was the good. And, I did hear some rumors that the wife was a VERY good cook… 
Anyways, here I am, standing in front of my closet, contemplating. I had to choose what I had to wear, of course. I picked a casual shirt and jeans. I didn’t have any nice clothes, like a suit, or a tuxedo, because none fit me. And, I just didn't want to waste any of my precious money on getting a custom suit. That didn’t matter though. I look myself over in the mirror and smile, satisfied with my look. I walk to the door, and start heading toward the neighbors. They were a very nice couple, a husband and wife named John and Abby. I had gotten to know them in the short time I have lived here, and I have to say, we got pretty close. 
I got to the door of John’s and Abby’s home and practically drool from the heavenly scent emanating from the house. I collect myself before ringing the doorbell. I look around, noticing the scenery. I never realized that they had such a nice house. Oh well. I heard some noise and the door swung open. John's beating face welcomed me, and I smiled back. 
“Why hello, my fine fellow! We are SO delighted for you to join us. Please, come inside.” John said, enthusiasm dripping off his voice. 
I walk in, my mouth watering. God, it smelled delicious. 
“Is he here, honey?” yelled Abby from the kitchen. 
“Yes, yes he is.” answered John. 
“Good, good. Take him to the, dining room dear.” 
John takes my arm and leads me to the… basement? 
“Hey, I thought the dining room was next to the kitchen-…” I started, but was interrupted by John. 
“Yes it is, but this is a special dinner, and special dinners are held down here.” 
“Oh! Alright then, lead the way.” 
John brings me down the stairs, and beckons me in. It was quite drab. The room had just a long, fold-up table, with a cheap cream table cloth placed on it. I drowned in disapproval, but stayed silent. I sit at the table, and grab a napkin. 
“I’ll go help Abby, before she gets mad at me. You know what they always say, happy wife, happy life.” chuckled John, and I smiled. 
John walks out, and minutes later, Abby and John come with a bountiful amount of food. My eyes bulge, but I have to contain my composure, so I calm myself. We say grace, and afterword, Abby starts giving me large servings of turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, pumpkin pie, you know, all that mouth-watering Thanksgiving goodness. 
“This is a very special recipe, and we want you to try it! Go in, dig in.” chirped Abby. 
I grin. You didn’t have to tell me twice! I immediately start stuffing my face. And boy, was it delicious! Everybody was right, Abby was a verygood cook. I continue to eat, giant spoonfuls being stuffed in my mouth, as I am unable to contain myself. It was just so good-… wait a minute. Why can’t I stop? I continue to shovel forkfuls of food in my mouth. Abby and John look at me with beaming faces. I start to panic. I can’t stop eating. Why can’t I stop?! 
“Mmmph! Mm mph?!!” I grunt, attempting to tell Abby and John the problem, my mouth filled with food. 
“Oh darling, quiet now. You just sit tight and enjoy your food.” scolded Abby. 
I start to feel sick. I couldn’t handle this much food. What is happening? Why can’t I stop?! Sweat starts to trickle down my gleaming forehead, as the food continues to accumulate in my mouth. 
“MMM! MMPH!? MM MMMPH!!” I scream, slamming my hand on the table, trying to attempt to make this, this curse, to stop. 
John and Abby giggled like I just told them a good joke. Tears ran down my face, mixing with the sweat that also dripped down my face. I start to regurgitate food, stomach fluids, and blood, in between spoonfuls. My body couldn’t handle this anymore. But yet here I am, still devouring this dreaded food. I start to sob, sad, awful wails. Suddenly one of my heaves clogged food in my throat. I was choking. I motion in fear and panic that I was choking. John and Abby just sit there. And I still eat, and eat, and eat, with no end in sight. John and Abby just smile, that terrible, awful smile. 
“Do you think he likes it, dear?” says Abby. 
“Why, of course, sugar-plum, who doesn’t?” coos John. 
I can feel myself losing oxygen. My lungs burned for air, yearning, pleading, for that desperately needed gas. But I could get none of it. Only food. Food, food, and even more god-FUCKING-awful food. My eyes burn from the tears that keep spilling on my face. Never in my life did I think I would ever loathe food, but right now, I’m starting to reconsider. 
I can feel the life drain for me with each bite. My vision begins to dot. I smile as my body hits the ground. No more food. No more torture. Just peace. I close my eyes, and I attempt to say one last thing. They probably didn’t hear it. I probably didn’t even say a word, probably all that came out was a wheeze. But I still try. 
“Thanks for the Thanksgiving dinner.”
Category:Food