home

What if I only ate egg salad?

I would fart. All that would travel through me is the pungent vinegar ridden odor form start to finish. There would be post-consumption reviews of the ratios. A more tangy digestional release would indicate the mustard was heavy handed; or the oversalting would present a bright punctuation to the happening. It’s all clear with egg salad. 

I’m frankly the only one who would, for lack of pessimism, enjoy the experience with closeness. I imagine after only days, it would seep into my walls, mattress, and hair. I’d never worry for a fishy vagina, but rather know a hole away flaps with it’s ripe expressions. 

Would I stop digesting the material after a while? Would my body simply reject the homogeneous diet? The soft rubber chunks might slip in and swirl down my waterslides — small then large— to meet the real oasis of a porcelain whirlpool. 

Oh my bed would reek. It would almost be unsightly. Walter from that sweet book and I would understand one another. I’m afraid mine would be more detrimental than his. Would I explore a cocktail of anti gaseous medications? Wonder if the eggs should have been free range? 

I’d never consider halting the hobby.