Yellow Guy couldn't remember the events leading up to him eating his friend.
He could remember some bits, like the steak and the spinach can coming to life, and Duck Guy getting angry, and something about teeth going gray, but after that everything was a blur. When he regained his senses, he was staring at a plate full of organs and feathers, with empty cans and blood scattered about him.
Coughing, he spat out the pieces that were in his mouth in disgust, wiping the blood from his mouth. He choked and gagged, trying his best to rid himself of the horrid taste. Feeling nauseous, he tried to stumble out of his chair and head for the bathroom, but he tripped. He realized that he had eaten so much that he was too big to pick himself up.
Struggling to pull himself across the floor on his arms, he caught a glimpse at one of the cans, and he felt sick upon seeing Duck's smiling face on every single one of them.
He didn't make it to the bathroom when he finally threw up.
In a wave of shame, fear, and disgust, he vomited the remains of his friend onto the floor, heaving and gasping as tears ran down his face. Every time he thought he was going to stop, he looked down at the chunks of flesh that lie before him and the bile returned.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the vomiting ceased, and he was left lying on the floor in a pool of blood and guts. Duck's blood and guts.
He passed out.
When he woke up, the mess was gone. Everything seemed to be back to normal. He was still lying on the floor, but the sun was shining brightly through the window, and the room was wiped clean of any trace of his little "lesson" with the food teachers.
Was it all a dream? Hurriedly, he got up and rushed to his room, hoping that his friends were just lying in bed. However, his face fell when he saw that the room was empty, and the beds were neatly made, just as they had been left.
"No..." he muttered worriedly, darting into every other room in the house in the faint hope that they were somewhere else, but it was no use. They were nowhere to be seen.
"Looking for something, friend?"
He cried out as the all-too-familiar voice hit his ears. He turned around slowly, only to come face-to-face with the meat man from the "lesson."
"What's wrong, chum? You look upset. Too much stress is bad for your health, you know! It can make your teeth go gray!" he laughed in his confident, easygoing way of speaking. Yellow wondered if it was possible for him to pass out again so shortly after waking up.
"I-i'm not stressed!" he lied. "It's just, um..." He fumbled to think of an excuse. He briefly pondered using hunger, but that idea was quickly dismissed after another painful flashback to yesterday. He didn't really want this...thing cooking for him again.
"I had a bad dream!" he blurted without thinking.
The meat man raised his eyebrows. "A bad dream, eh?"
Yellow nodded emphatically. Was he really buying it?
Slowly, a smile stretched across the creature's crooked, veiny face. "Well, don't worry! I have a friend who's an expert on dreams. You know what he says?"
Yellow tilted his head curiously. "What does he say?"
"He says that the best cure for bad dreams..." The smile grew wider. "...is a healthy breakfast."
