A Glutton's World

Foreign Differences

Ezora had spent the night contemplating the sudden shift in her life. How much bigger the world as she understood it really was, and how many countless generations of people had gone their lives not knowing.

She had woken up to a bowl of vanilla ice cream with macadamia cookies stuffed inside.

She looked over at Shanara, rifling through the cupboard. "Fixing yourself a snack?"

"I already eat."

"I see."

"This for you."

"I seeeeeeeeee. Who am I to argue with the mighty Urup warrior?"

Just about every edible item was emptied onto the kitchen counter. Ezora didn't recognise everything. By the looks of it Shanara didn't know how to properly cook, at least not with modern tools.

"I like fire in your belly, but ve vill  need something to eat tomorrow  too..."

"Um, well, I've always preferred to gain the fun way, if you get my meaning."

They nodded.

The bathroom door opened, and a great white shape waddled out, barely covered by a towel. "There's something wrong with your bathtub."

Ezora turned. "I don't have one."

"That's what's wrong with it. Do I look like someone who stands up while she does her hair?"

"You kan break metal," Shanara said.

"I'm not a big fan of standing in general." Then she saw the food. "Sitting on the other hand, I can do blindfolded."

She planted her repugnant backside on the chair and took to the scrambled eggs with the restraint expected of her fat front side. In only three careful strokes the fork herded the mush into her waiting lips, and she was ready for the next bowl waiting for her.

A little impressed and a little anxious, Ezora just sort of hovered between her houseguests, not sure what to say. It felt so petty worrying about her food budget after last night. All the same...

"Sit. Eat."

"Shanara, I mean it. You're not expecting us to eat like this every day, are you?"

Without looking away from the kitchen, Shanara pushed her down into the chair. "Eat. Lola not seem like considerate type."

Taking her muffin – or whatever food it was meant to be – she started eating, chomping through a macadamia in her first bite. Weird. Tasted like crippling debt.

Nevertheless, she'd gotten quite good at this part over time, and had only gotten better. The bowl of ice cream cookies was next. She didn't like ice cream, she didn't buy ice cream, but she decided not to ask where it came from. She licked and chewed and gulped with a little more effort than most would need, washing it down with a straight glass of milk. Next she took on a bowl of Apple Smacks, managing to crunch almost the whole thing before sliding it to Lola. This was where she'd have once packed it in and spent the next half hour rubbing her sore belly, but when Shanara slid the plate of sausages onto the table, she suddenly found her appetite again.

She left most of the sweets for Lola, and found in ten short but fulfilling minutes and twice as many plates that wonderful fullness her body was never intended to feel. Her tank had gone from E to F. A small part of her had always felt guilty, knowing each wonderful bite meant another deserved headache from the doctor.

That guilt went the same way as the sausages.

The soft ball of her middle was now totally solid, yet she still tried her best to finish the meatloaf, half of which still sat on her plate to mock her.