I’ve been lying around all day, stuffing myself. The house is a mess, but I don't care. I'm supposed to have the house to myself for the next few days. When my feeder comes home early and catches me like this, he’s not exactly impressed. Three giant donuts are still sitting untouched on the table, while I am sprawled out on the couch like a lazy, spoiled blob. He reminds me of what I am: a fat, useless pig. If I’m going to be such a glutton, I might as well own it. He feeds me each donut by hand, humiliating me with every bite. Fat-shamed, stuffed, and too far gone to care, I finish the donuts and ask the only question that matters: What’s for dinner?