It wasn't too long ago when the humans, under the guidance of the fake news media, decided that eating exclusively healthy foods was "good for them" and that it would help them "live longer". Ever since, my friends and I have had to question our existence; if we're not to be eaten, then what are we doing here? Who am I? What purpose do we serve? I long for the moist, cavernous maw of a human to wrap around my tight, toned body and give me the release I desire... The release I need.
Slay in Style
To help inspire the others to join the resistance, I feel it's important to look the part of the hero they need. My old friend, Strudes, can set me up with the latest in baked goods fashion. Be it the gorgeous shoes that give me the confidence to move in graceful new ways, the shirts that will properly let me express my rage, or the fierce hats and facial accessories, I'll be the most iconic revolutionary leader in history. Not to mention his selection of weapons in the back room... Oh, the things we've done in that room...
Beat Down Bosses
The healthy food movement is led by The Four, a collective of atrocious abominations. First up is Reginald Bunchings and his famous fruitful loins (seriously beautiful; no wonder he has so many kids). Among... other things... I fantasize about tearing his pompous, condescending face from him every night. I'll take him out and he'll give up the other three. I begin my training tomorrow, for I have been warned that each one of them is a warrior in their own right. I will be ready.
Dance with Death
My journey won't be easy, The Four have trained an endless group of healthy, and frankly, weirdly sexy foods to protect them, and set up nefarious traps to stop me in my tracks. If I'm not careful my unreasonably attractive visage will be torn apart or disintegrated. It will take time, but I am convinced I can learn all their weaknesses and exploit them so they meet their end. But seriously, the painful goring of my six-pack abs sounds so incredibly painful. But it's fiiiiine, that won't happen.
