There once was a small town in the middle of nowhere. It was a boring town where not much happened and even less people cared when something did. One day, people began disappearing. They’d simply vanish from their jobs, their homes, their favorite haunting places. Nobody knew what was going on. Was it a roving gang of kidnappers? A cult? Perhaps a mass exodus of tired, bored people? The town banded together and conducted investigations.
The only clues to this mystery were the presence of certain items at the places of the townsfolk’s disappearances. Chicken wings, apples, pies, raisins, bread. All edible items. Some were found bloated in the streams and swarming with maggots behind the forest. Panic settled upon the sleepy town as the phenomenon took its toll. Desperately they sought the help of officials, mystics, priests, anyone who could alleviate the emotional suffering of lost loved ones. But nobody had a solution.
Until one day, the cleverest man in town made the connection that nobody else had.
“All the people who disappeared had been replaced by their favorite foods!”
It hit everyone at once. Somehow, the disappearing folk truly were turning into their favorite foods. A travesty so absurd it actually made sense. It explained why everyone was finding oatmeal steaming on beds, why there was fruit squashed underneath the tables, pastries drowned in the toilet. People realized in horror that they may have been eating their discarded loved ones on accident for weeks now. They tried to resist eating their chosen meals, but that did not stop the looming threat; the first to go after not eating potato salad for 3 weeks was a dear old Granny.
The new exodus began shortly after, but many did not get far. The curse had sped up and began turning people in the streets into spuds and sandwiches alike. Some tried to run, only to tumble into grapes at the muddy gates. The mayor was found some time later, locked within his room. The cherry pie that lay on the floor and coated the noose was red and mushy like meat. The town dolt, unaware of the impending doom, just continued scooping up rice and beans and carrots until inevitably, he too popped and fell as a nasty old avocado.
Eventually, nobody in the town was left. Everyone had turned into their favorite foods. Well...everyone except me of course.
The stench of rot has attracted the wolves and birds alike. I could certainly go for a snack right about now. But my favorite dish isn’t being served here anymore.
Written by William See
Content is available under CC BY-SA