It was a bright and sunny day in the Great Valley community. A small, purple tyrannosaurus child was walking down the sidewalk. His name was Chomper, and he had no relation to anyone named Barney or Megatron.
As Chomper walked, his stomach started to growl. He was getting hungry already. There were no beehives nearby, but Chomper had money in his pocket. Perhaps he could spend some cash for a meal at a restaurant.
Chomper scanned both sides of the dirt road. He looked for a large, bright sign of any type. Conveniently, he saw one such sign, and it was on the same side of the road as he was. The sign read "Subway".
"Subway…?" Chomper wondered if this was an underground meat distributor. Sharpteeth like him could benefit from a place like this, especially in Flattooth-centric areas; He wouldn't have to kill anybody.
Hearing his stomach growl again, Chomper decided to try this new place. He opened the front doors and walked into the establishment. The restaurant appeared to be run by primates of some kind. These primates were tall and had no fur anywhere on their body, save for atop their heads. One such primate was standing near the entrance; He was wearing glasses. The guy approached Chomper.
"Hello! Welcome to Subway!" said the man. Chomper looked at the man's name tag. It read "Jared". Chomper then looked up at the man's eyes and gave a light smile. Chomper's stomach growled again, reminding him of why he was here in the first place.
Chomper quickly rushed to the counter, where all the food options were on display. When Chomper examined the options, his hungry, toothy grin turned into a frown. Aside from some meats, most of the stuff was plant based. Being a carnivore, Chomper couldn't have those. This included almost all of the bread options. Chomper was also lactose-intolerant, so he couldn't have any cheeses either.
"Hello," said the woman behind the counter, "What would you like?" Somehow knowing where this is going, Chomper raised a digit, cleared his throat, and began to speak.
"I can't have plant-based bread," stated Chomper.
"Oh, don't worry! We have special Soufflé Flatbread for customers like you. It's egg-based."
"Thanks!" from the flatbread, Chomper had an entirely meat-filled footlong made for him. He had it grilled too. Once it was done, the young tyrannosaur paid up and went to one of the tables to enjoy his custom footlong.
Chomper bit down into the heated, juicy footlong, filled with yolk and whites in the bread, ham, chicken, bacon, beef, tuna, and steak. He enjoyed the single bite of the footlong, and still tasted it in his mouth after he swallowed it.
Chomper soon finished eating the footlong and was about to exit the place. Suddenly, his stomach started getting a churning feeling, not from hunger, but digestive problems.
"Uh oh!" Chomper said as he quickly made his way to the bathroom. He went into the farthest stall and closed the door behind him. Pulling down his shorts and briefs, he hopped on the toilet and pushed. A waterfall of liquid feces and undigested material erupted from the tyrannosaur's backside.
As Chomper was trying to manage this emergency bowel evacuation, he pondered on what he ate. Was that specialty bread taken from countless failed soufflés that turned to goo, like they typically do? Did they use foam from mattresses to help keep the bread's shape? And what about the meats inside? Were they not as fresh as advertised? Did someone's finger find its way into the tuna?
Soon the trickle of waste from Chomper's rear stopped. He flushed the toilet and got up. As he turned to get some toilet paper, he glanced toward the toilet and screamed, nearly urinating on accident.
Perched atop the toilet's tank was Jared Fogle, grinning evilly. It was there that Chomper realized the torture to his lower digestive system was far from over.
THE END.
