Arthur sucked hard. "Just one more pump," he told himself.
Exhausted, he sat back, white froth at the corner of his lips.
"Wow," said Brain. "Forty milkshakes!"
Their table was filled with empty glasses. Arthur sat at the booth, his stomach bulging. "That's a new record!" Wait until my parents hear about this!" said Brain. He started massaging Arthur's stomach. Arthur let out burps and facts, happy to relieve the pressure.
"Uuurrrp. The capital of the United States is me!" The facts were inaccurate but Brain didn't care. "That's right Arthur! Or should I call you Fathur now?" Arthur didn't get it because he was stupid.
'I should probably head home," Arthur moaned, leaving Brain to think on the day's events. Alone with his thoughts, Brain began to daydream. He thought about Arthur in his current, bloated state. "I almost want to make him fatter," Brain thought, highly aroused.
"Why did I get this invite for the 100 milkshake challenge?" Arthur asked Brain the next day. Brain shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. "Oh, um, I haven't heard of that," he said convincingly. "QUIET" screamed Mr. Ratburn, slapping a yard stick against the desk.
"I think I need to cut back on the milkshakes," Arthur whispered. "My pants are getting a little tight." As if on cue, and audible pop came from Arthur's crotch as the button on his pants burst. "DETENTION!" Mr. Ratburn screamed.
He let out one last bloodcurdling shriek as he stifled the impulse to strangle the children. The two were sent to serve their detention taking inventory of the cafeteria's stock.
They ambled slowly down the hallway out of necessity; Arthur could no longer comfortably bear his own weight. Brain was happy to have this time to walk with Arthur. He smiled as Arthur grunted with exertion. Arthur was dripping with sweat, huffing and puffing. He had rolls upon rolls now, his shirt stretched tightly over his stomach. He now sported a prominent double, almost triple chin.
'I was going to ask Fern to the dance, but there's no way anyone would date a slob like me now!" Arthur sobbed. He collapsed into a puddle of moist fat just as they entered the cafeteria. "I'm useless," he continued, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
"There, there, Arthur," Brain said. "How's 'bout I go into the kitchen and whip up some grub?" Arthur smiled sheepishly. "Now you're talkin' my language," he sniffled.
Brain began to take off his pants.
Arthur frowned, "But I'm hungry," he protested.
Underneath Brain's pants was…a milkshake?!
Arthur beamed. "Oh Brain! You always know what to do." He leaned forward and put his mouth around the straw. He was about to inhale the sugary goodness when suddenly a scream pierced the air. Mr. Ratburn came flying towards them at an inhuman (inrat?) speed. With an outstretched fist he slammed Brain squarely in the chest; the Brain was thrown twenty feet across the cafeteria and crashed through a plate glass window. Mr. Ratburn turned towards Arthur, and shrieked once more.
"ARTHUR, YOU LITTLE PIG! GO HOME!"
"You think I'm a pig" Oh Mr. Ratburn…I'm an aardvark!" Entirely immobile at this point, Arthur decided to sit there until he died.