When Gustav Seussmann awoke on October 31st from happy dreams, he discovered he had transformed into a Hershey bar. Not the simple bite-sized treat loved by those cheating on their diets, but rather a five-pounder brimming with almonds.
As he slid onto his back to check himself in the mirror, he wondered how this could have happened. He remembered finishing his second-shift quality control job at the candy factory and stopping off at Wonka’s bar and grill for a quick mug of Yuengling Chocolate Porter. It went down like syrup.
Karma, that’s it. Hilda kept saying to me, “Stop eating all that stuff. One day you’ll turn into a Hershey bar.” Darn it, I hate it when she’s right. She’ll laugh, wag her finger, and utter a prolonged “Seeeeeeeeee.”
At least she’s at work at the nutrition center, and the kids are in school. They have a Halloween party today, so maybe I can buy some time while they’re recovering from their candy coma.
Gustav checked his almonds. Nicely proportioned, he thought. Poking from the perfectly formed slab of cocoa. This was a marriage made in heaven.
He bit off a piece near where his left leg would be, chewed and pondered. Maybe I can go to sleep again, and all will return to normal. He lay on the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to banish thoughts of his deliciousness.
Two hours later, he opened his eyes. He was now a bag of Jolly Rancher. Still a five pound confection, but this time fruit-flavored. He unwrapped a blueberry and considered his fate. He decided to return to the land of nod.
A lawn mower disturbed his slumber. He sat up and checked the mirror. He was now a bundle of celery. He hopped downstairs to the kitchen, slathered himself with ranch dressing, and went to town.
A car pulled into the driveway, the squeal of low brake linings announcing the return of his spouse. Gustav crawled upstairs on his remaining stalks as Hilda fumbled with her keys. He went to sleep and hoped for the best.
A rough hand shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Hilda dressed as a witch, nose wart and all. “Hey, wake up. Are you going to sleep all day?”
Gustav sat up, yawned and glanced at the mirror. A normal, paunchy, middle-aged man with salad dressing on his shirt. “Boy, what dreams I had. I must have really been tired.”
Hilda started to change her clothes. She stopped and bent over the bed. “Is that a bite mark on your leg? What happened to you?”
“You wouldn’t understand , dear. I guess I have to stop drinking after work.”
As he slid onto his back to check himself in the mirror, he wondered how this could have happened. He remembered finishing his second-shift quality control job at the candy factory and stopping off at Wonka’s bar and grill for a quick mug of Yuengling Chocolate Porter. It went down like syrup.
Karma, that’s it. Hilda kept saying to me, “Stop eating all that stuff. One day you’ll turn into a Hershey bar.” Darn it, I hate it when she’s right. She’ll laugh, wag her finger, and utter a prolonged “Seeeeeeeeee.”
At least she’s at work at the nutrition center, and the kids are in school. They have a Halloween party today, so maybe I can buy some time while they’re recovering from their candy coma.
Gustav checked his almonds. Nicely proportioned, he thought. Poking from the perfectly formed slab of cocoa. This was a marriage made in heaven.
He bit off a piece near where his left leg would be, chewed and pondered. Maybe I can go to sleep again, and all will return to normal. He lay on the pillow and closed his eyes, trying to banish thoughts of his deliciousness.
Two hours later, he opened his eyes. He was now a bag of Jolly Rancher. Still a five pound confection, but this time fruit-flavored. He unwrapped a blueberry and considered his fate. He decided to return to the land of nod.
A lawn mower disturbed his slumber. He sat up and checked the mirror. He was now a bundle of celery. He hopped downstairs to the kitchen, slathered himself with ranch dressing, and went to town.
A car pulled into the driveway, the squeal of low brake linings announcing the return of his spouse. Gustav crawled upstairs on his remaining stalks as Hilda fumbled with her keys. He went to sleep and hoped for the best.
A rough hand shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Hilda dressed as a witch, nose wart and all. “Hey, wake up. Are you going to sleep all day?”
Gustav sat up, yawned and glanced at the mirror. A normal, paunchy, middle-aged man with salad dressing on his shirt. “Boy, what dreams I had. I must have really been tired.”
Hilda started to change her clothes. She stopped and bent over the bed. “Is that a bite mark on your leg? What happened to you?”
“You wouldn’t understand , dear. I guess I have to stop drinking after work.”