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seeley@dalcsug.UUCP (Who? me? name? ah...)
Dalhousie University, Halifax, N.S., Canada

FOODPORN: Pornography for dieters (?) by Frank LaRosa

Brought to you by Searchlight bbs 516-724-0971

Dear Editors,

I read your fine magazine eagerly each month, and one of my favorite features is the letters you receive from your readers. I always enjoy hearing about their exploits, but until now I never thought anything like that could ever happen to me. However all that changed last Friday night, when I had one of the most incredible experiences of my life, and felt I just had to write and share it with everyone.

It was about 10:30 PM and I was sitting in my dorm room going over some boring math homework that I really didn't feel like doing. Normally there is plenty to do on Friday nights at my college, but it was the first day of spring break and the campus was practically deserted. Since I couldn't afford to go to Florida with my buddies, I was forced to spend the vacation on campus by myself. I was fully expecting a rather dull week of nothing but studying and watching TV.

Anyway, I was concentrating on my math book when suddenly I heard a loud bang and a screech coming from outside. I rushed to the window to see what had happened. On the street below I saw a white minivan with the words "Carlo's Italian Restaurant" on the side. The van pulled slowly to the side of the road, obviously suffering from a tire blowout. Relieved at an excuse to break up the monotony of my studying, I decided to go outside and see if I could be of any help.

As I approached the van I could see the driver, an overweight, brown haired woman who introduced herself as Gail. We both examined the flat tire and I asked Gail where she was heading. She said she was supposed to deliver an order of Italian food to a party, some rich eccentrics who lived in the upper part of town, she said. But the party had been cancelled at the last minute and she was returning with their order. She said she didn't think there was a spare tire in the van but I suggested that we take a look anyway.

We went around to the back of the van and Gail opened the rear doors. A warm rush of steam came from inside, carrying the rich scent of fresh tomato sauce and Italian bread. In the cargo area were trays and trays of lasagna, meatballs, and pork smothered in sauce. A stack of pizza boxes lay to one side, and I could see what looked like a case of beer towards the back. Never in my wildest fantasies had I seen anything like the banquet that lay before me now. After living on lousy school cafeteria food for the past two months, it all seemed something like a dream come true.

Gail looked around and said she couldn't find the spare tire. She sighed, giving me a strangely seductive look. "Well," she said, "I guess I won't be able to get back to the restaurant for a while. It would sure be a shame to let all this food go to waste." At that, I knew something incredible was about to happen. Gail manouvered her pudgy frame into the back of the truck. I couldn't believe my eyes as she began unwrapping the mountain of food before us. "Here," she said, handing me a huge tray of lasagna. The dish was warm and heavy and full of rich Italian smells. When I looked back I noticed that Gail had started without me and was already busy with a large, greasy pepperoni pizza.

I sat on the edge of the van and removed the tin foil from the lasagna tray. I peeled the foil back slowly, carefully, revealing the hot pleasures within. The sauce oozed like lava around the melty mozarella cheese, and pools of oil were everywhere. I ran my finger along the edge of the plate, and then gently through the heart of the food, delighting in the warm, slippery feel of the pasta underneath. After a few minutes of working my fingers in and out I removed them and slowly licked off the sweet-tasting sauce.

My sense of hunger heightened, I lifted the tray closer to my face. My hands sank into the center of the lasagna, scooping out huge globs of pasta, sauce, and cheese. I lifted the food to my mouth and stuffed it sloppily into my waiting hole. I chewed and swallowed deeply, my eyes closed in ecstasy. My entire digestive tract tingled as the food made its way down my esophagus and into the pit of my stomach. Incensed, I grabbed hungrily for the lasagna, stuffing my mouth till it was about to burst, choking it down so fast that it almost hurt, and stuffing my face again. In a matter of minutes I had lapped up the entire tray, licking it clean so as to get every drop.

I stood up and caught my breath. After such a feast I was sure I could eat no more, but the sight of several open pizza boxes soon had me going again. Reaching out, I tore off about half of a huge 15 inch pizza covered with pepperoni, mushrooms, and sausage. I folded the thick dough and thrust the pizza mouthward, alternately chewing at the crust and then sucking in the tender, cheesy filling. My mind in a blissful daze, I spent the next several minutes in this position, until I had devoured every last mouthful.

By this time Gail had discovered the beer, and she handed me a tall, frosty bottle. I wrenched off the cap and lifted the beer to my mouth, pouring it eagerly down my throat. As I drank in a frenzy, beer spilled out the corners of my mouth and dripped onto my face, neck and clothing. Oblivious to the world, I continued consuming the brew like a madman until every drop was gone.

Finally, I could take no more. Grasping my stomach, I stumbled towards the grass on the side of the road. I opened my mouth and burped into the warm night, longer and louder than I had ever done before. The substance of my belch seemed to hang in the air in front of me, thick with the aroma of pizza and beer. I burped a second time, then lay on the soft ground and fell into a deep, satisfying sleep.

When I awoke several hours later, Gail and the restaurant van were gone. I never saw them again after that night, but the fond memories of our encounter will stay with me forever. Perhaps someday I'll meet Gail again, and if I do I'll be sure to write and tell you all about it.

- Name and address withheld by request


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