The Food-gitive

I look around the cave. A fire burns to keep me warm. The roof above the fire has started to melt and the aroma of hot chocolate fills my nose. At least I will not go hungry, I think to myself as I lean against the soft sponge cake wall. Comfortable, which is more than can be said for the nut cluster floor. Maybe under the blanket of darkness that night brings I can sneak out and pick some fairy floss to use as a bed. Or maybe I could just let the roof melt completely and cover me like a fly in resin. That is what I deserve. I am a murderer. I can never return home, and if I can I don’t know how to. I’m stuck in this world, with the whole population after me. I am a fugitive in an unknown world. How did it all start, I hear you ask? Let me start from the beginning.

I admit it, I am not skinny. I am short and fat. My mother says that I’ll grow out of it. My father says that I‘m a fat, lazy slob. I just think I eat a bit too much. I can’t help it, but I am always thinking about food. Not vegetables of course. I hate vegetables. They look, smell and taste terrible. Once mum tried to feed me vegetables and I crawled on the floor and faked death. On the other hand if somebody held candy in front of my face I would roll on the floor, drool and beg just to get it. I love candy. It is the greatest thing in the world. It is also the reason I am here. Cruel, loveable, sweet candy. I cannot stay mad at candy, but I can stay mad at that storekeeper. It’s his fault I’m here. Wait, I am confusing myself and I am sure you also. Many were at fault, including my stomach.

* * *

It all started yesterday as I was walking to school. I had a sudden urge for candy. I checked my schoolbag. Mum had only packed a cheese sandwich, no good for mornings. I needed candy. I reached the shops that are located near the school. We weren’t allowed there in the mornings but I went anyway. I checked my wallet. It looked like just enough for two chocolate bars. I walked into a shop at the end of the block, one I had never seen before. It was dark and smelled musty. A man with a long, thin moustache and a small pointed hat sat behind the counter. He was wearing some kind of robe and smoking a pipe. “Welcome,” he said as I entered. I nodded my head in response and looked around until I found the candy section. All the usual bars, Mars, Snickers and Chomp bars were there, but there were two bars I didn’t recognise. Never being afraid to try new things, I took the last one of each, A C-bar and a V-bar. The Old man behind the counter leaned over as I made my purchase and spoke. “Beware, these bars contain a strange power that can move worlds and….” I interrupted him, sick of hearing this sort of stuff from various insane shopkeepers. “Sure, Sure, less chat and more chew, just hand over the bars.” The gloomy old man wrinkled his face in reply. “You were warned,” he whispered. I laughed and walked out of the shop. What an old fool, I thought to myself. I opened the first bar and was about to put it into my mouth when a hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun around. It was Mr. Peters, a teacher from school. I stuffed my candy bars quickly into my pocket. “I think you had better be off to school,” he said to me and led me over the road and through the gates. As I entered the school I turned around. The old man and his shop had completely disappeared, a parking lot in their place. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing properly. I wasn’t. I was looking at the wrong place. The shop was still there.

Geography, what a boring subject. Mr. Peters droned on and on, but I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t stop thinking about that shop and the warning from that old man. My stomach growled at the thought of the shop. The chocolate bars. I took the one I had opened out of my pocket. It was the C-bar. I pretended to drop my pen and stooped down. While on the ground I stuffed the whole thing in my mouth.

A rich taste filled my mouth and my mind was transported to a wonderful land. A land of candy. Spearmint leaves grew on candy cane trees. Mountains were made of coconut rough and houses were chocolate bricks mortared together with caramel. This was not all. The things that made this place truly wonderful were the Gingerbread men. They populated the town that existed in this dreamy land of delights. They grinned at me with their icing mouths. One looked straight at me but he wasn’t smiling, he was frowning. Suddenly a strange feeling rose through me. Everything seemed so real. I bit a tree. Mmmm, candy cane. It was real, but it couldn’t be, this was a simple daydream. I pinched myself. It hurt. I realized that somehow the C-bar I had just eaten had transported me into this land. Oh well, I thought, it was probably only temporary so I had better make the most of it. I started cramming everything into my mouth. After an hour of stuffing my face I took a rest. My stomach growled. It demanded more. I stared down at my bloated gut. It seemed to hang over my belt. But it was not full. My eye caught something. It was a Gingerbread man, my favourite. My stomach seemed to encourage me. Eat, eat it said. I slowly waddled over to the man, who was sitting at a bus stop. One bite, what harm could that do, I thought to myself. I was about to find out. I snuck up behind him and took a bite out of his arm. I closed my eyes and chewed.

Something was amiss. The man was screaming. “Somebody bit my arm! Ahhh!” I couldn’t let him attract attention like that so I did something terrible. I committed the ultimate crime. Murder. I ate him, right there at the bus stop. It took a while but I eventually reached his feet. I looked up from my meal. Gingerbread citizens looked down at me, horrified looks on their faces. I looked back at them, wiping crumbs from my face. Then the shouts began, “Murderer! He got Harold! Call the Police!” I heard sirens in the distance. I couldn’t get up; my legs could no longer support my enormous gut. When the police arrived I let them drag me into their car. I was thrown into a cell and they locked it with a candy key. When I could walk again I paced the cell. How could I escape? My bloated brain provided the answer as I looked at the bars. Of course, everything else was candy. I bit into the bars. They were soft licorice. Normally licorice is the only candy I hate, but in this case all I tasted was freedom. After gnawing my way out I snuck through the corridors. I was outside. Suddenly from the inside an alarm went off and Gingerbread guards poured out of the building. I started running. I ran as fast as my flabby legs would take me. I heard two gunshots behind me, followed by a sharp pain in my leg, but I ignored it. I kept running, past the licorice lampposts, past chocolate houses, down the rocky road and out of town. After what felt like hours I stopped at a sign. It read “Danger, do not enter, “ but I ignored it and walked in. It was an abandoned honeycomb mine. A perfect hiding spot. I sat down and inspected my leg. It was bleeding. I pulled a licorice bullet out of my leg. After a short rest I got two candy canes from outside and started a fire. I then sat down to think.

* * *

And that is the story. That is how I ended up here. I suddenly feel something in my back pocket. I take it out. It is the V-bar, squashed but okay. An idea crosses my mind. Maybe this bar can bring me home. It is worth a try, anyway. I tear off the wrapper and cram the bar into my mouth. A horrible, sour taste fills my mouth; my mind is transported to a different world. The trees are green, the grass is green. A sheep stands in the field. Just a minute, that isn’t a tree, that’s…. broccoli, and that grass is…. parsley. That sheep there is made of…. mashed potato? The sheep frowns at me. Suddenly everything seems so real…

The End