Disposed of…

So it wasn’t long before I had to devise a cunning plan to avoid a perpetitude of eating chocolate.  It was clear that this wasn’t going to be easy, for Matron is indeed a matron of almost godly powers and revered above most matrons that I know of.  And I know two matrons.  There’s Matron and then there’s Matron.  I think there’s a bit of rivalry between the two, since Matron dresses exactly the same as Matron – not wishing to be outdone, I would imagine.  And then there’s the way they style their hair the same and the way their noses are the same too.  Matron even sounds exactly like Matron.  It must be hard to have someone spend so much effort and intent on trying to attain the standards that Matron sets.  But somehow Matron always seems to be able to raise the bar and show Matron how much of a pale imitation she really is.

So if I was to stand a chance of escaping my predicament, I’d have to maybe catch the imitation matron out whilst Matron is doing something else.  This could prove tricky as they always seem to be around at roughly the same time.

My plan was as simple as it was devious.  I would pretend to eat seven chocolate bars of various types and sizes, and then, behind my back, I’d construct them into a life-size model of Michael Jackson.  With a little ventriloquist magic, and knowing that Matron truly adores every pore of Michael, I’d lure Matron into the promise of a lusty night with my chocolaty effigy.  Whilst distracted I would whisk myself away from this chocolaty hell and begin a new a life of freedom in cell 29f.

This was surely the bestest plan I’d ever concocted, so when I found myself minutes later unceremoniously stuffed into a waste paper bin, I have to admit to being a little surprised that things could unravel quite so quickly. 

It was all a bit of a blur really.  The chocolate effigy making went well I thought.  OK so, maybe it was a little smaller than I was hoping, and yes, I think trying to pose mid-moonwalk was a little optimistic, but my rendition of “It doesn’t matter if you’re black or white” was faultless.  But… somehow Matron clearly saw through it.

And then it hit me.

Dark chocolate.  Why did I use dark chocolate?

*sobs*

Not without its problems…

With 1,337,000 tins of Spork failing to sell, I was left with a predicament.  I could feed them to the snails, eat them myself, or use them as weaponry in my ongoing battle with the guy that smells of Marzipan in room 9.1b. 

As tempting as it is to put one over on the little guy with a surprise Spork related attack, he’s too easy to maim with far less valuable artillery.  Now the snails… they’re tempting.  You might think snails wouldn’t go for a meaty product like Spork, but the snails here are feisty and have been known to take down a cow if they get looked at a bit funny.  This one time, when Matron was hosting cow camp, 13 cows were slimed to death when the annual “Do your best Zoolander impression” contest turned ugly.  So anyway, whilst the snails could be fine recipients for my Spork, I didn’t really fancy encouraging their meat lust.  So that left me with just one option… I’d just have to eat them all myself.

Tin one went well.  I marvelled at the exquisite flavour.  My last minute decision to omit the Marmite was possibly my finest, though I did begin to question my sanity over the inclusion instead of the maggots.  No wait.  I definitely didn’t put any maggots in.  I remember now.  That is after all why I sing my maggot song everyday, reminding me not to put maggots in my food.  Hmmm.  Most odd.  Oh well.  Just more meat I guess. 

Tin two was less pleasing.  I was getting a real wriggly sensation in my stomach.

Tin three and my head was getting all spinny.

Tin four, someone was at the door.

It was Matron.

She didn’t look happy.  She took one look at my pile of tins and the maggot encrusted Spork around my mouth and she ordered me to head straight for room 102. 

I was to stop my stupid ways.  I was to embrace the way of the chocolate.  I was to lick it, lather it and digest it.  I was to consume vast quantities for her pleasure.

And so it began again.

I may never get to deplete my Spork mountain.

One day… one day.  So help me Gosh, one day.

Moving slowly…

Hmmm…

Well…

You see…

Things are moving altogether a lot more slowly since I suspended my highly calorific confectionery consumption.  You could even be so bold as to say that things have stopped entirely.  I don’t want to be caught out though – it’s best to remain at action stations just in case the torrent suddenly returns.  Wouldn’t want to be in the fish hook storage room when the bottom contractions begin.  Nosiree.  I’d surely catch a Mustad Model 91715D O’Shaughnessy Jig Hook in my elbow in the rush to the nearest toilet.  No.  It’s best that I remain sat here.

It’s been ten days though.  There’s not a peep of a poo and I’ve lost most of the weight I gained.  Matron won’t be happy.

I’m going to need to find some way to make it up to her.  I just don’t think I’m meant to make it as a feeder’s passion object.

*sigh*

 

Side effects…

The highly calorific confectionery consumption has to stop.  Today I’ve gained 5 stone and 7 pounds and I’m beginning to find it difficult to deal with the quantity of what I don’t digest.  Initially it was fine, I just sat on the toilet, and so long as I flushed every 54 seconds, the waste wasn’t a problem.  But it’s not easy.  I have to carefully juggle intake vs. disposal. 

So as the highy calorific confectionery stocks started to deplete, I found I needed to run further and further to the back of the warehouse… with obvious ramifications…

First it was 53 seconds…

Then it was 52 seconds a bit later…

Then there was that crazy jump where it went down to 37 seconds…

Now it’s at 13 seconds and frankly the whole system has collapsed.

Matron won’t be happy.

I hope she doesn’t do that thing… again.

*sobs*

Mass consumerism…

The chocolate ingestion is going swimmingly.  Who would have thought that 17 hours of non-stop highly calorific confectionery consumption could be so slippery.  I think every square millimeter of internal surface area is now a slick chocolately expressway.  I need only place a mars bar near to my lips and it slivers its way through at quite a pace.  In fact, in the name of science I thought it would be useful to time how quickly I can process a highly calorific confectionery item… 

So I attached a peice of string to a curly wurly (they have useful holes to tie string to) and set it on it’s merry way.  I love doing science.  Makes me feel all clever.

13.8 seconds later my curly wurly was out.  Well… at least… part of it was.  I’d clearly digested the bejeebus out of it.  Woot!.

Now this gave me an idea.  What if I was to tie the string ends together in a big loop and then use it to accelerate highly calorific confectionery through my body?  This would surely increase the weight gain process that Matron wants me to achieve?  I just had to give it a shot – you just don’t pass up ideas this good.

So I entangled 34 curly wurlys to the string and wrapped the other end of the string around a masonry drill. 

0.3 of a second after I depressed the drill’s trigger, 32 of the curly wurlys had made it through, partially digested.  Impressive, but sadly this is when I realised that my science experiment could have benefited from a little more design.  The 33rd curly wurly was in fact my tongue. 

*sigh*

Thankfully not that digested and suitable for  a quick spot of re-attachment.  Need to hold-fire on the highly calorific confectionery consumption whilst I await the glue to set.

Splendid.

 

Consumerism…

So today Matron thought I should learn more about the lifestyle that I’ll have to adopt once I’m deemed ready enough to brave the outside world.  Matron explained that it’s appropriate to supplement my daily diet of multi-coloured splendid pills with as much highly calorific confectionery as I can get into my body in 17 hours.  She went on to explain that it may be necessary to liquidize said highly calorific confectionery to optimise the restrictions brought about by orifice circumference shortcomings.

That sounded like a challenge to me.  I don’t need to stinking liquidize anything!  I’m proud of my highly developed and delicately honed massive chew sets technique.  The only liquid that’ll pass by my resplendent lips will be weak lemon drink and paint… and none of that cheap rubbish neither.  Nosiree.  Only the very finest crusty and lurid lead varieties thank you very much. 

*hurrumph*

I digress.

So anyway, 17 hours of sickly chocolate ingestion later, Matron says I’ve shown some real promise.  I’ve managed to retain 16 kilos of weight, and if I can keep this rate of weight gain up, I’ll soon be bedridden and unable to escape her clutches.  Apparently that’s really good.

Woot!

Can’t wait for tomorrow.  Matron says I can up my ingestion to 17 hours and 3 minutes.  By my reckoning, that’s another 14 Mars bars.

Double Woot!

 

(and splendid)