Crunch, glumph

Once upon a time there was a boy who ate rocks. No one could stop him. He ate small rocks, big rocks, medium rocks. Yellow rocks, red rocks, black rocks. It didn’t matter, if he saw a rock he would eat it.

His mother would tell him, “Johnny don’t eat that rock.”

“Crunch, glumph.” He would say.

It went on like that for years. Doctors were perplexed. How could a boy subsist primarily on rocks? What was his unique biology and physiology that allowed such an extreme diet?

It turned out he was a sock puppet. The end.