Pass the Pasta
The glistening bowl of tangled spaghetti strands was mesmerizing to me. I could see little snippets of my face reflected by the glassy beads of oil. Here and there were bright splotches of sauce masquerading as rivers of blood. As I bent closer to determine what else was contained therein, I watched frozen in horror as tentacles of the pasta reached up toward me and captured me in their arms.
“Leave me alone,” I protested to no avail as I was drawn further and further into the frightening dish of noodles. “Why are you doing this?”
Since I could no longer fight the inevitable threat of my capture, I decided to take a moment out of my fear to survey my surroundings. Little pink shrimp wiggled toward me with their devouring mouths. Bits of sausage promised to suffocate me as they formed a barrier around me. The spices were the worst. They marched in formation toward my nose, attempting to annihilate me. The smell of garlic impregnated my body as it rubbed its torso against me. I had no idea how to escape the terrorization of the spaghetti bowl.
At last, I thought of a solution. I opened my mouth wide and began to gobble up the little morsels as if I were a little Pac man. The strands and chunks slid smoothly down my esophagus. Soon I was alone in the bowl. I struggled valiantly to propel my body over the edge of the container to find myself becoming my normal size once again. I felt free and alive.
But no! My belly was killing me as I doubled over in pain. The little warriors were now inside me, burning their acid through my stomach lining. The garlic and the assorted spices had teamed up together to cause me misery. The spaghetti was pummeling my insides like a drum. The small shrimp used my insides as a trampoline. I knew now that I could not withstand the torture. I pasta way to my dismay!