One of life’s joys is devouring pizza. Certainly not just eating it but scenting it and tasting it as well. There’s nothing like the aroma of fresh-cooked pizza to taunt one and impel the human body to take action.
You scent the delicacy, then you turn your head until you scrutinize it abiding here in front of you, all pulsing with heat and pleasure, it is just awaiting your aggression on its bodily integrity, almost shivering with apprehensive expectation.
Then your hand advances out to it. The hand moves by itself you make no decision or act of consciousness.
Snatching a piece of the paradisical spoils you bring it to your mouth, slowed only by the need to make sure the toppings do not fall to the floor below. Either end first, it starts to vanish from public awareness into your gaping jaws, like a baby down the gullet of a wild beast.
With a snarl as you drop all patina of society, lasciviousness consumes you as much as you consume the defenceless delight.
Then you burp and its shredded corpse is absorbed into your intestinal system.
And only then do you take a breather and fall asleep.
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