FARCTATE – (n) the state of being stuffed with food (overeating)
Charlie couldn't help her condition. She was what she was, what she had solemnly always been: hungry. Between eating and sleeping, she had a full schedule. And being a giant tub of lard with digestive problems didn't change a thing.
She wriggled around, her body two seconds behind as she waddled along. The sun made her skin feel like it was boiling, but it also brought out all the delicious smells of food being nearby. She tried to waddle faster, but her fatigue wore on her quickly and she had to duck into a building to cool off.
The city mall was just a little ways off, and she could just imagine all of the discarded hot dogs and Kandy Korner goodies left behind. So she pushed on, her appetite giving her the energy to move forward.
She reached the doors to the compound after nearly rolling through a Common-filled parking lot to find them barricaded shut. How would she get in now? She was hungry!
A small cat was sitting on an open ledge not too high up, one leg outstretched so its sandpaper-like tongue could cleanse its body. She took in a deep breath and heaved at an angle, catching the creature in mid lick. It shrieked in surprise and fell backwards inside, covered from head to toe in sticky green bile.
Charlie stumbled out of the way as forty or fifty of her more Immune-resembling cousins charged at the doors with a righteous and hungry fury. The Plexiglas bent and groaned as they pushed against it, watching their future meal rub at its eyes with two angry clawed paws.
A crack from a fist made her grin. Just a little while longer, and she would be swimming in lollipops and gummy bears. Finally, the barrier gave way and the primal monsters charged at the terrified feline, trampling each other to get the first mouthful. Once they had cleared the entryway, the Boomette shuffled inside and began to explore.
She ignored the Macys and Payless, uninterested in what feeble labels remained stocked in the back or on the shelves. Like anything in half of these stores would fit her. She looked like she was forever pregnant, something that got her teased a lot before the Infection came along.
Charlie finally saw salvation: the Kandy Korner, still with the gate intact locked up, every shelf stocked to the brim with goodies. She was so happy, she could drop to her knees and cry. But that would waste precious time that she could spend eating.
She approached the gate carefully and touched it. Nothing. No alarms. And silent alarms were not a problem for anyone anymore. The police were either dead or being eaten alive right now anyway. She wrapped her meaty fingers around the links of the gate and pulled as hard as she could. Her grip soon slipped and she flew back, landing on her back a few feet away.
She huffed and rubbed her angry stomach. No Trolli candies today…so she carefully made her way to the nearest exit, following her nose in hopes of sustenance. No one around to stop her, but still not a thing to eat.