Man Attacked By Rogue Calories: The Victim's Own Words

I often tuck into a few calories just before I tuck into bed. About a week ago, following my usual routine, I drifted past the refrigerator on my way to sleep. I did have a spoon in my hand – a teaspoon, a little tiny teaspoon. I did open the freezer door. This however, is where my responsibility ends. I often do these things. I peer in. I do a little visual grazing. If I do taste something I maintain complete control. Last week was different. It may have been related to an attack about an hour earlier by some salty chips dripping cheddar cheese that managed to penetrate my slightly parted lips. At the time I didn't recognize that this was merely a softening up sortie, probing for weak spots and implanting little sprigs of gluttony that would later sprout like weeds. Anyway I was just poking about in the freezer compartment when suddenly from within a cylindrical container there came forth hordes of calories; some in brown uniforms, others in white. They just kept coming and coming. I couldn't stop them. The scary part was the way they forced my hand to move the spoon back and forth between the container and my mouth, over and over and over again. They showed no mercy and laughed as they shed their peppermint particles all over the alimentary landing strip that is my tongue. It was just horrible.

Later, as I roused myself from my stupor and rose from the floor up onto my hands and knees, I saw the empty carton lying nearby. On the outside was printed, "Simone's I Scream." Really.