Carnival Food
Sticky. If Laci had to use one word to describe her environs, it would be sticky. There were other words that could be added in too, of course. Cramped would be a good one. The feline hadn’t stopped eating since she had snagged Laci in the restroom while the mouse was washing her hands. The chamber had already seemed small enough with just Laci in it, but now it was packed to the brim with carnival food and candy, filling up every available inch of space around her. She couldn’t move at all without having to dig through the mass of both sugary and savory snacks. How could this cat be such a glutton? How could an entire person not be enough!? Solid would also be an effective descriptor – or perhaps lumpy. The feline didn’t seem to be much for chewing her food. This should hardly be a surprise, as she had gobbled down Laci in seconds, so fast she hadn’t had time to scream, so fast that there were other people in the restroom and they hadn’t even noticed. So it made sense that she ate most of her food that way, too. Entire hot dogs, huge handfuls of fries and caramel corn, and at one point even an entire funnel cake had dropped onto Laci’s head. The feline certainly didn’t savor her food, that was for sure. And of course, it was noisy. The feline’s gut was incredibly loud, gurgling and churning as the walls squeezed and pressed, sometimes shifting her so violently against the other semi-solid contents of the stomach that she felt like she was in a rock tumbler. The feline’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, and beneath all that she could still hear the sounds of the carnival, laughter and excited screaming and music. A few times, it had sounded like the feline had started talking to someone, and Laci had screamed and kicked with all her might. But though she shouted herself hoarse, the screams apparently didn’t make it out over the din, and she was fairly certain that even her strongest kick wasn’t even making a dent on the feline’s plush figure. No one had noticed. But ultimately, as effective and accurate as all those descriptors might be, sticky still somehow managed to win out. The feline seemed to have a sweet tooth, and a disproportionate amount of the snacks she had ingested were sugary treats. These had quickly melted and gotten everywhere, forming a tacky layer over every inch of Laci’s fur. Her shirt was soaked and stuck to her body, and pieces of popcorn had attached themselves to her legs (she had lost her skirt on the way down, when it snagged on the feline’s teeth.) Any attempt to move into a more comfortable position meant having to exert a small amount of force to unstick her arms from her sides, or her legs from each other. It was even in her mouth, a sickly-sweet sting that she couldn’t escape. And the worst part was that it was still just the beginning. When the feline had eaten her, she had assumed that she would be dead in minutes. But with a dawning horror, Laci had slowly realized that that would not be the case. Though the air was stinging and acrid, she somehow didn’t have trouble breathing. Hours had passed now, and while the discomfort was extreme, she didn’t feel any stinging or pain that suggested that digestion had even started on her. It had been right at the beginning of the day when she had been eaten – if the feline was planning on staying at the carnival all day, she still had hours to go. Every piece of evidence was pointing to Laci still having quite some time left in her stay. Laci could hear familiar sounds coming from somewhere above her in the din – wet noises of mastication and swallowing. The feline was eating something again. Any moment now, something new was going to be crammed into the already-packed chamber. Another hot dog? Cotton candy, maybe? She would know in a minute. Laci curled up as best she could, hid her face against her knees, and sobbed.
