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On the first day of the great consumption. I lost my fingernail to the hunger. It wasn’t missed. They weren’t allowed to grow back anyhow. Somehow they had got in the way. Heaven forbid. On the second day of the great consumption. I got myself new ones. Longer and brighter than all the ones before them. They still got in the way. But they hadn’t worn off yet. The novelty that is. And they went with my glistening new credit card. Granted I could no longer pick it up. There’s always someone to help you with that. Always. Always. They never get in the way. Their way is my way. Their goals are my goals. Always always. On the third day of the great consumption. I discovered how many small animals I could fit into my backpack. 32. Not as many when you open it back up. Or seven small dogs. I got another bag. They needed a companion. All of them. They looked so in need of a different box to be crammed into. On the fourth day of the great consumption. I filled my gut. And then expelled it the very same way. There were seventeen more dishes I had yet to try and my bowels had just been cleansed by a wonderful Swedish doctor. They smelled like water. The waiter said I was the most healthiest appetite he had ever seen. He’s now my personal diet planner. I fired him now though. He breathed on my breathe. On the fifth day of the great consumption. I began my training. For what I’m not sure but the trainer sure is cute. We’ve fucked in my mind several times. I’ve decided that she’s half nun, half prostitute. I like her left side the best. I bought a lock of her hair. For what, I don’t know but the spy I used was very friendly. Smelled like water. Bought a lock of his hair too. Her hair smelled too fruity. Didn’t want to seem like a fag. On the sixth day of the great consumption. I figured out how to tie two sports cars together. Just in case one isn’t fast enough, I can flip it over. And over and over again. Until the slaves I bought/hired (who consist of some kind of brown)lose their arms to leprosy. I gave them leprosy. Never met anyone with leprosy. Now I have. They are beginning to lose that poo color and get a charming green instead. They said thank you. I paid them to. On the seventh day of the great consumption. I figured out how many shots it takes to kill a small dog. 3. On average. They stop moving anyhow. That’s how I know they aren’t alive. I pay them to keep moving. No one would turn down a chance at an amount. That amount can take them places. Places with people. People who have things. Amounts of things those people didn’t turn down for the life of them. I believe that’s how it works. On the eighth day of the great consumption. I purchased charity. I gave them money and they said thank you. So I now own Big Brothers and the Heart and Stroke Foundation. Thinking of turning one of them into a burger king and the other into a dairy queen. That way I can shove an ice cream cone into a hamburger and make little babies. I think they’ll be arby’s or something. That’s called financial reproduction. I believe that’s how it works. I know that’s how it works. And I don’t work. So I get to see how things do. It’s an outside perspective. Oh yah I bought one of those too. He told me I was the collapse of the Soviet’s and the rise of this rather horrid beaucracy . I paid him to say that he’s wrong. And that he sleeps with the devil. But I pay him more. Probably would too. On the ninth day of the great consumption. I bought the rights. Like the bill of rights. It was so crumbly. It was embarrassing. I was embarrassed. So the country was embarrassed. I paid them to be. I replaced it with a copy of Juggs and a high def version of Die Hard 1-8 (Oh yah I also paid every movie to legally change every movie starring Bruce Willis into a Die Hard Sequel. I don’t think he minds) It seemed like no one even noticed. Well a few guys stopped to read it. With never happened with Mount Crumbles. Fucking crumbles. On the tenth day of the great consumption. I conscripted great armies. I armed them with swords. Battles were so much cooler with swords. We invaded Canada. I paid them not to shoot back. They took the money and shot back. Fucking foreigners. Never could I find a trustworthy one in the bunch. And I buy them by the bunches. And the six packs I must add. As my armies fell I bought out the general of the other side. So when we beat out those blasted Yankees I was the one who was victorious. I don’t think they mind. By gosh they really shouldn’t. For I lead them to victory and back again.. On the eleventh day of the great consumption. I grew tired of my face. It didn’t seemed to be as excited as it used to be. Not as happy or as caring. Certainly not half as sincere as I try to fake my way through. So I bought a new one. Chiselled and manly. It glistened like fire when I spoke and like ice when I slept. Women took off their clothes at the mere hint of a smile. A full-blown would lead them to climax. That’d be a shame. They should have to work for it like the rest of us. C’mon I have to ask for them to fellate me. And fellate me they did. The face was the greatest ever made. Fully decked out in all the features you didn’t even know one could have. It was given it’s own day. Took out some fellows birthday but fuck him. This Jesus didn’t have a mug like mine. But I fired the doctors. I fired the therapists who helped with recovery and shot the girls without their clothes on. The face still wasn’t right. It still didn’t seem to be as excited as it used to be. It didn’t seem to care anymore. And that fake hint of a smile had nothing on my old real one. On the twelfth day of the great consumption. I found religion. Maybe they had the face I was looking for. This God was said to be greater than all the power rangers and the justice league put together. Perhaps he’d have the face I wanted. And if he wouldn’t sell his I’d at least have a model. The Jewish told me he hadn’t come yet. The Christians told me that he’d only come when I’m dead(fuck that). The sciencetologists said that he was an illusion and that I should look to the skies. The Buddhists just hummed incessantly. The money I offered them to stop didn’t even catch me brief relief. The hinduists and islamics spoke in some jibberish I didn’t understand. Though the islamics sounded an awful lot like the Christians. No one could tell me anything concrete. This God was as missing as my excitement. Even killing the Buddhists or sleeping with the repressed Christians had no effect. On the thirteenth day of the great consumption. I bought seven countries and sank two. I got carried over the pyramids by one small anorexic girl. I bought some old man lunch. I paid some man to bench press 300 lbs and say that I did it. I shot 37 porn films and 73 snuff films. I gave cancer to the Taurus and water to the Pisces. I watched the president strip naked in front of me and ate three hundred caviar and lobster hamburgers. They were horrible. It should have been awesome. It very much could have been. Nothing. Nothing in. Nothing went. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. Nothing giggled in anguish or screamed in sheer pleasure. These were new and exciting. They should have been. They should have been. On the fourteenth day of the great consumption. I paid off everyone I was ever mean to in school. As reprimands. As condolences. I bought seventeen degrees to make myself more educated. That’s what those papers mean, isn’t it? I gave money to the other charities and didn’t even ask for the deed. I set all my animals up with their own homes and their own trust funds. That’s what everyone needs right? I did a complete 360. I bought modest clothes and gave them to all the girls who tore theirs off in my presence. In every mailbox I left a butler. Well everyone could use another one, right? I did my own push ups. I did three. Fuck that. I bought up every orphan and put them in a room with a sewing machine so they could build themselves happiness. That’s all. That I. Could Do. It should have been meaningful. On the fifteenth day of the great consumption. I didn’t bother to turn on my lights. I didn’t bother to get dressed despite the mountain of clothes. I gave my staff a permanent vacation. May they rest in peace. I didn’t bother to wash or shave. It simply didn’t matter. I spoke softly to myself as if someone may overhear. I cracked a little. Tears streamed down my face a tad. I didn’t bother to wash them off. I didn’t move very fast. Or eat very much at all. On the sixteenth day of the great consumption I did even less than that. I didn’t bother to get out of bed. Or even speak in that soft quiet tone I had discovered yesterday. I didn’t even bother to roll over. My side hurts. On the seventeenth day of the great consumption. I stopped living up to the day’s title. I did nothing at all. On the eighteenth day I did nothing at all. On the nineteenth day I did nothing at all. On the twentieth day I did nothing at all. On the first day of the new beginning. I got up. I got dressed. I ate a modest breakfast and read a modest newspaper. I opened the door and left.

Description
On the first day of the great consumption. I lost my fingernail to the hunger. It wasn’t missed. They weren’t allowed to grow back anyhow. Somehow they had got in the way. Heaven forbid. On the second day of the great consumption. I got myself new ones. Longer and brighter than all the ones before them. They still got in the way. But they hadn’t worn off yet. The novelty that is. And they went with my glistening new credit card. Granted I could no longer pick it up. There’s always someone to help you with that. Always. Always. They never get in the way. Their way is my way. Their goals are my goals. Always always. On the third day of the great consumption. I discovered how many small animals I could fit into my backpack. 32. Not as many when you open it back up. Or seven small dogs. I got another bag. They needed a companion. All of them. They looked so in need of a different box to be crammed into. On the fourth day of the great consumption. I filled my gut. And then expelled it the very same way. There were seventeen more dishes I had yet to try and my bowels had just been cleansed by a wonderful Swedish doctor. They smelled like water. The waiter said I was the most healthiest appetite he had ever seen. He’s now my personal diet planner. I fired him now though. He breathed on my breathe. On the fifth day of the great consumption. I began my training. For what I’m not sure but the trainer sure is cute. We’ve fucked in my mind several times. I’ve decided that she’s half nun, half prostitute. I like her left side the best. I bought a lock of her hair. For what, I don’t know but the spy I used was very friendly. Smelled like water. Bought a lock of his hair too. Her hair smelled too fruity. Didn’t want to seem like a fag. On the sixth day of the great consumption. I figured out how to tie two sports cars together. Just in case one isn’t fast enough, I can flip it over. And over and over again. Until the slaves I bought/hired (who consist of some kind of brown)lose their arms to leprosy. I gave them leprosy. Never met anyone with leprosy. Now I have. They are beginning to lose that poo color and get a charming green instead. They said thank you. I paid them to. On the seventh day of the great consumption. I figured out how many shots it takes to kill a small dog. 3. On average. They stop moving anyhow. That’s how I know they aren’t alive. I pay them to keep moving. No one would turn down a chance at an amount. That amount can take them places. Places with people. People who have things. Amounts of things those people didn’t turn down for the life of them. I believe that’s how it works. On the eighth day of the great consumption. I purchased charity. I gave them money and they said thank you. So I now own Big Brothers and the Heart and Stroke Foundation. Thinking of turning one of them into a burger king and the other into a dairy queen. That way I can shove an ice cream cone into a hamburger and make little babies. I think they’ll be arby’s or something. That’s called financial reproduction. I believe that’s how it works. I know that’s how it works. And I don’t work. So I get to see how things do. It’s an outside perspective. Oh yah I bought one of those too. He told me I was the collapse of the Soviet’s and the rise of this rather horrid beaucracy . I paid him to say that he’s wrong. And that he sleeps with the devil. But I pay him more. Probably would too. On the ninth day of the great consumption. I bought the rights. Like the bill of rights. It was so crumbly. It was embarrassing. I was embarrassed. So the country was embarrassed. I paid them to be. I replaced it with a copy of Juggs and a high def version of Die Hard 1-8 (Oh yah I also paid every movie to legally change every movie starring Bruce Willis into a Die Hard Sequel. I don’t think he minds) It seemed like no one even noticed. Well a few guys stopped to read it. With never happened with Mount Crumbles. Fucking crumbles. On the tenth day of the great consumption. I conscripted great armies. I armed them with swords. Battles were so much cooler with swords. We invaded Canada. I paid them not to shoot back. They took the money and shot back. Fucking foreigners. Never could I find a trustworthy one in the bunch. And I buy them by the bunches. And the six packs I must add. As my armies fell I bought out the general of the other side. So when we beat out those blasted Yankees I was the one who was victorious. I don’t think they mind. By gosh they really shouldn’t. For I lead them to victory and back again.. On the eleventh day of the great consumption. I grew tired of my face. It didn’t seemed to be as excited as it used to be. Not as happy or as caring. Certainly not half as sincere as I try to fake my way through. So I bought a new one. Chiselled and manly. It glistened like fire when I spoke and like ice when I slept. Women took off their clothes at the mere hint of a smile. A full-blown would lead them to climax. That’d be a shame. They should have to work for it like the rest of us. C’mon I have to ask for them to fellate me. And fellate me they did. The face was the greatest ever made. Fully decked out in all the features you didn’t even know one could have. It was given it’s own day. Took out some fellows birthday but fuck him. This Jesus didn’t have a mug like mine. But I fired the doctors. I fired the therapists who helped with recovery and shot the girls without their clothes on. The face still wasn’t right. It still didn’t seem to be as excited as it used to be. It didn’t seem to care anymore. And that fake hint of a smile had nothing on my old real one. On the twelfth day of the great consumption. I found religion. Maybe they had the face I was looking for. This God was said to be greater than all the power rangers and the justice league put together. Perhaps he’d have the face I wanted. And if he wouldn’t sell his I’d at least have a model. The Jewish told me he hadn’t come yet. The Christians told me that he’d only come when I’m dead(fuck that). The sciencetologists said that he was an illusion and that I should look to the skies. The Buddhists just hummed incessantly. The money I offered them to stop didn’t even catch me brief relief. The hinduists and islamics spoke in some jibberish I didn’t understand. Though the islamics sounded an awful lot like the Christians. No one could tell me anything concrete. This God was as missing as my excitement. Even killing the Buddhists or sleeping with the repressed Christians had no effect. On the thirteenth day of the great consumption. I bought seven countries and sank two. I got carried over the pyramids by one small anorexic girl. I bought some old man lunch. I paid some man to bench press 300 lbs and say that I did it. I shot 37 porn films and 73 snuff films. I gave cancer to the Taurus and water to the Pisces. I watched the president strip naked in front of me and ate three hundred caviar and lobster hamburgers. They were horrible. It should have been awesome. It very much could have been. Nothing. Nothing in. Nothing went. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. Nothing giggled in anguish or screamed in sheer pleasure. These were new and exciting. They should have been. They should have been. On the fourteenth day of the great consumption. I paid off everyone I was ever mean to in school. As reprimands. As condolences. I bought seventeen degrees to make myself more educated. That’s what those papers mean, isn’t it? I gave money to the other charities and didn’t even ask for the deed. I set all my animals up with their own homes and their own trust funds. That’s what everyone needs right? I did a complete 360. I bought modest clothes and gave them to all the girls who tore theirs off in my presence. In every mailbox I left a butler. Well everyone could use another one, right? I did my own push ups. I did three. Fuck that. I bought up every orphan and put them in a room with a sewing machine so they could build themselves happiness. That’s all. That I. Could Do. It should have been meaningful. On the fifteenth day of the great consumption. I didn’t bother to turn on my lights. I didn’t bother to get dressed despite the mountain of clothes. I gave my staff a permanent vacation. May they rest in peace. I didn’t bother to wash or shave. It simply didn’t matter. I spoke softly to myself as if someone may overhear. I cracked a little. Tears streamed down my face a tad. I didn’t bother to wash them off. I didn’t move very fast. Or eat very much at all. On the sixteenth day of the great consumption I did even less than that. I didn’t bother to get out of bed. Or even speak in that soft quiet tone I had discovered yesterday. I didn’t even bother to roll over. My side hurts. On the seventeenth day of the great consumption. I stopped living up to the day’s title. I did nothing at all. On the eighteenth day I did nothing at all. On the nineteenth day I did nothing at all. On the twentieth day I did nothing at all. On the first day of the new beginning. I got up. I got dressed. I ate a modest breakfast and read a modest newspaper. I opened the door and left.