Gorging and thinking do mix!

Knowing that Albert is in trouble, you dash off towards Carlas tent. Unfortunatly, the invincible will that started the trek realises the the flest is weak and hungry and turns back. You find yuorself reseated, chugging down a gallon of heavy chocolate cream.

"HEY," Fred yells, "YOU NEED TO HELP..." He cuts off as he drives his head into a pot of gumbo and drains it dry. "Ok, this is not working," he says, eyeing a pile of hot dogs, while you jam the end of a truely enormous sub into your jaw and begin wolfing it down. "Whe, neef, mrph mun," you mumble, your cheeks painfully swollen with meat and bread. "What was that, (GULP)?" says Fred, sucking an entire gelitine mold in one breath. You swollow, feeling the last of the sub glop into your stomach, soon becoming part of the ever expanding layer of flab about you. "I said (munch), we need, (gulp) a plan," you say, gulping gown whole deep fried potatoes between words." "No duh, we need a plan," said Fred, scarfing down a plate of eclairs, "The trouble is, neither of us can get close to Carlas tent without needing food." The bench gives way under your increasing weigh, just as you stand up, almost knocking the table over with your expanded gut. "FRED, I have an idea, wait here!" you yell, grabbing a large pot of bacon greese before running off. "Like I have a choice!" yells Fred, chowing down in your absence.

A short while later, you return, your entire body wobbling to and fro from its national repository of fat. Following you is a group of people, each looking a bit amuzed. "Quick Fred, order as much food as you can!" You say, shoving money into his paws. "Why, that last thing we need is more food!" "I know, but I've paid these people a fortune to carry food for us," you say, quickly ordering a veritable buffet of food from the stalls, which people begin carrying with you. Soon a line is formed to Carlas tent, as you and Fred rush to Alberts rescue, eatting all the way...

Written by an anonymous author

the rescue attempt

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