It's true.
I'm not delusional.
Jenny has told me of her plan to "fatten" me up (Ha! Not much of a "secret" plan when you give it all away!) She has been quite open about it.
Her mother is in on it as well. Yesterday, I went to the store with her while Jenny was at work. She immediately took me to the cookie aisle and started filling up the cart.
"You'll eat these, right?"
"Um... yeah," I stumbled as a reply.
"Oh. And some of these? And these? We'll get one of each, OK?"
I had no choice but to nod along.
I don't want to be rude.
And then for dinner last night?
Pizza.
They have studied me well. They know my weaknesses.
Pizza.
Cookies.
Cheese.
And pop.
The other day, Jenny showed me the basement and casually pointed at a case of Pepsi.
"You can have some whenever you want. We really don't drink it much."
Sure... sounds innocent enough.
But then her mother was explaining the security system to me the next day and told me how even though the house is secured at night, "it's safe to go into the basement and get a soda whenever you want."
!!!
I try to keep an eye on Jenny whenever she gets me something to drink. I suspect the chalky substance in my coffee is a weight-gaining protein powder.
Very sneaky.
Next it will be gravy injections while I sleep.
I fear what the near future will bring.
I have created a rendering of what things will be like six weeks from now:
For now though, I eat. To protect the rest of you, of course.
And eat and eat and eat.
What is the ultimate goal of this plot? Who knows?
To cook me like a big, fat, Thanksgiving turkey? Perhaps, although Jenny being a vegetarian seems to throw this possibility into serious question.
Maybe at the end they'll just pack me up in a big shipping crate (as I will be too large to fit onto a plane, much less walk on my own). They'll use Cheetos instead of packing peanuts and put me on a big cargo ship, bound for American shores...
Eh. On second thought, it all doesn't seem so bad...
2 comments:
So, you got the artist gene, too.
Meanwhile, "gravy injections" is just about the most brilliant pairing of words in the history of the pairing of words.
Lest my last comment be misinterpreted to suggest that, I, too, have the artist gene, what I meant was, "In addition to all your other talents, you got the artist gene, too."
My rendering talents are such that I once wrote out a recipe for Aunt Stana and did a little doodle at the top and then felt compelled to add the explanatory note, "That's supposed to be a chicken, but it looks like a hat."
In my defense, it wasn't a "barnyard" chicken, it was a "ready to go in the oven to roast" chicken. I can draw the barnyard variety well enough to make it recognizable.
Thus ends my obsessive explaining for the evening.
Post a Comment