Writing request cause goddamn I can't get the image of Sunny in a mozzarella stick (brick) Situation out of my head 🙏
You Broke My Writers Block (or did you? this is a little clunky) (thats not my problem tho) (its longer than anything ive written lately anyhow)
[stuffing, bellyache]
"Jesus," exclaimed Laurie, staring in awe as the waitress set down Sunny's mozzarella sticks. Sunny wasn't at the table to witness their glory; he was busy throwing another gutter ball. When he returned from his turn, though, his friends had plenty to say about his snack.
"It's like a basket of fried remotes," said Dave, and Carrie broke out into laughter. The description was hardly an exaggeration. Each stick was about the size and shape of a large TV remote, and there were four of them in the basket. There were also mozzarella sticks in the appetizer platter the group ordered, but Sunny, who was a big fan of fried cheese and overestimating his appetite, had insisted on ordering his own. It had been a little bit of a debate--Laurie had argued that he'd surely be fine just sharing the platter, as well as the massive order of disco fries they'd all been nibbling at since the game started, but Sunny's mind had been made up.
"I think if you cut 'em up you'd have, like, five orders of regular mozzarella sticks," said Carrie, marking invisible lines across one of the sticks with her finger.
"They don't even look good," said Laurie.
"You guys are just jealous," Sunny retorted, taking a seat at the little table as Dave rose for his turn. He picked up one of the mozzarella sticks and it collapsed under its own weight, bending over and oozing back into the basket.
"Believe me," said Laurie, wrinkling her nose, "I'm not."
Figuring out how to eat the massive mozzarella sticks was a chore. The breading offered no structural integrity, and it took a lot of two-handed maneuvering to dip it into the marinara and take a bite. It was very, very rich. The crust of the breading was minimal; these sticks were almost entirely composed of blocks of pure cheese, and the whole order had to contain at least a pound of it. Sunny loved cheese, but that big first bite was a bit much even for him. Still, he'd insisted on getting his own mozzarella sticks, and he wasn't about to let them go to waste. He knew none of his friends would be helping him out. They had their own, plus the rest of their appetizers. Sunny was stuck alone with a big basket of greasy fried cheese.
That first bite of cheese landed like a rock in Sunny's not-exactly-empty stomach, accompanying a good portion of the fries which had barely had time to settle in, and he knew he had a difficult task ahead of him. Right now, his goal was to finish one stick before his next turn. Trying to keep it in one piece, he carefully dunked it into the sauce again and leaned in for another bite. The sauce was a necessity here; without it, the stick alone would be far too heavy. His enthusiasm about his food depleted rapidly as he ate, but he was determined, and by the time Laurie sat down from her turn, he was finishing his last bite of that first block of cheese.
Sunny felt a definite weight in his belly as he stood up to find his ball. He had no idea how he was going to finish the rest of the basket. Laurie had been right in her assessment about how good they looked; they lacked the perfectly crispy crust and juicy stringiness of a good mozzarella stick. It was just a lot of thick, oily cheese. His stomach ached dully as he threw another gutter ball, and he forced himself to resist holding a hand to it. He couldn't let his friends think he'd be so easily defeated by mozzarella sticks, especially after putting up a fuss about ordering them.
Not yet having boosted his miserable score, Sunny returned to the table. He was hoping the rest of the sticks might have vanished while he was gone, but no such luck. There they sat, big and bulky as ever, in a puddle of grease. He poured himself a cup of Pepsi from the pitcher and took a sip, then picked up another heavy stick.
"How are your remotes?" asked Carrie, and Sunny noted that the sticks on the rest of the group's platter were still untouched.
"They're alright," he lied through a mouthful of cheese. "Not as good as Oyster Creek."
"You'd think bowling alley mozzarella sticks would be pretty high end," remarked Dave. "Especially considering everything else here is pretty good."
"Right? They were really good at that one in town before they closed," said Carrie. Sunny nodded in agreement as he chewed through another wad of cheese, wishing badly that the bowling alley in town was still open. He could be enjoying delicious mozzarella sticks right now instead of trudging through these monstrosities. His belly felt heavier and heavier with each bite, and he predicted that that heavy feeling would remain for some time; it was hard to imagine all that cheese digesting quickly. He took another sip of soda.
This time, Sunny only made it through half a stick before his next turn, and when he stood up he could feel his stomach straining. He knocked down one pin, which earned an applause from the table, and threw the next roll straight into the gutter. Laurie gave his belly an amused look as he walked back to his seat.
"You gonna be able to finish those?"
"Course I am. Why, you want one?"
"Hell no. I don't even want these ones," said Laurie, gesturing to the appetizer platter that the rest of the group had been working away at. Dave had taken a few bites out of one of the sticks, which now sat abandoned with a thick, sickly ooze creeping from the open end, but apart from that, they remained untouched. The sight of that slow ooze didn't help Sunny's appetite. In fact, it put him off even more, and he felt a queasy gurgle in his belly. Trying not to let his reluctance show, he picked up his own half-eaten stick and got back to work.
His belly felt tight now, and unbelievably heavy. It bulged out over his snug belt and against the fabric of his shirt, and the soda he was sipping wasn't doing anything to make it any smaller. He needed it, though. The thought of powering through the rest of those sticks without something bubbly and refreshing to break it up seemed impossible. Slowly, he worked his way through the rest of the second stick, his tummy growing tighter with each bite. He only had a bite or two left when his turn came, and he wasn't looking forward to finishing them when he came back from it. The feeling of his swollen belly pressing hard against his unforgiving belt as he sat back down didn't help. Still, with the aid of the sauce and the soda, he finished the stick.
With two of the massive sticks in his belly, Sunny felt ready to burst, but another two still remained in the basket. He had no idea how he was going to finish them. Noticing Laurie eyeing his tummy, though, he knew he had to try. She'd been the one insisting that he didn't need his own order of them, and he wasn't going to prove her right if he could help it.
"Why don't you just get a box for the rest? You've gotta be full by now," said Laurie, unable to keep a teasing tone out of her voice.
"I am not," Sunny argued.
"Well, in that case, why don't you take these ones too so we don't have to look at them anymore?" Laurie added the sticks from the platter to his basket, and he glared at her.
"He's gonna pop if he eats all that," chuckled Carrie.
"If you can't handle 'em, fine," Sunny declared, stupidly accepting the challenge. He now had five and a half sticks in his basket, but, his motivation boosted by his own stubbornness, he picked up another one and got to work.
The benefit of taking on the rest of the group's mozzarella sticks was that he now had their sauce on top of his own. It took a lot of sauce to get them down, and his cup was beginning to run low. The downside was everything else. He didn't have much more space in his belly for the repulsive sticks, and he certainly didn't have space for five and a half. Still, running on pure determination, he managed to demolish a whole one before his next turn. Laurie gave his tummy a pat as she passed by him to return to her seat.
"I cannot believe you're still going," she said as she sat down. Sunny made a face at her as he stood up, trying with little success to keep his belly sucked in. Each time his turn rolled around, the weight of his distended belly hit him like a truck, and this time was worse than ever. It was so taut after wolfing down that third stick that his stretched stomach ached, and for a moment, as he stood there, he thought he might be sick. The feeling passed, though, and he headed down to the lane for another failed turn.
Two pins and a gutter ball later, Sunny trudged back to the table, trying in vain to inch his belt lower on his waist as he sat down. It was painfully tight around his bulging middle now, and he was considering making a trip to the bathroom to loosen it. Maybe in a little bit. Right now, he needed to get ahead of these sticks. Still riding the wave of determination, he picked up another, dunked it in the marinara, and took a big bite.
The fourth stick didn't go down as easy as the third. That boost of motivation dissipated quickly as he chewed endlessly on that big wad of cheese, and his belly strained hard to accommodate it. Once he finished this one, though, he'd be about halfway through the whole batch, and that seemed like a good goal for the moment. Trying not to think about the ache in his stomach, he pushed on.
The sticks were no longer hot, and Sunny wasn't sure whether that was an improvement or not. On one hand, the slightly soggy breading was thoroughly unappetizing. On the other, they were much easier to eat, and the texture wasn't quite as overbearing as it was when the cheese was still gooey. He decided to focus on those positives as he worked through the fourth stick and tried to enjoy the flavor of the cooling mozzarella. He wasn't quite finished when Laurie returned from her turn, giving his curly hair a rough tousle as she came back to her spot, but there was less than half of it left.
Feeling a little more confident, Sunny pulled himself out of the chair and instinctively held a hand to his belly. It was impressively round now, looking almost cartoonish on his skinny frame, and he paused for a moment, taken aback by how unbelievably tight it felt. He could hardly even inhale, his tummy stretched so taut that there was no room left for it to expand. It felt like he'd swallowed his bowling ball.
"Jesus, Sunny, your belly looks like it's about to explode," Laurie exclaimed. She felt a little bad for throwing the extra sticks in his basket; Sunny was a stubborn little thing, and he'd eat himself to bursting if it meant proving her wrong. When he turned away to retrieve his ball, Carrie took one of the sticks and wrapped it up in a napkin, then passed it across the table to Dave, who tucked it away between the pitcher and the dish of fries. Two and a half remained, and when Sunny returned, he didn't question the missing one.
Sunny nearly sat down, but, feeling his belt digging into his belly, made a quick trip to the bathroom to adjust himself. He was surprised at the sight of his distended belly when he saw himself in the mirror. It stuck out as though he were pregnant, and when he loosened his belt, it only made it look bigger. Easing up that pressure on his aching tummy was a relief, though, and he slipped his hand under his shirt to rub the sore skin before returning to the table.
He sat down, took a small but slow sip of his soda, then finished off the last bit of the fourth stick. No longer under any illusion that he might conceal his bulging belly, he leaned back in his seat with a sigh, taking a moment to breathe. The confidence he'd had a few minutes ago was gone; there wasn't a bit of space left in his stomach. Still, there were only two and a half sticks left. That didn't seem like much compared to the five and a half he'd been looking at not long ago, but it certainly seemed like a lot compared to his overstuffed belly. The massive wad of cheese inside him didn't seem to be digesting it all, and it sat like a huge, greasy boulder in his straining stomach. He forced up a small, strained burp. It didn't free up more than a molecule of space.
"Sunny, why don't you quit?" He looked up to see a look of uncharacteristic sincerity on Laurie's face. "You look like you're gonna pop. Just take the rest home. Or make Dave eat them."
"There's only a couple left," he said, trying to sound confident but unable to hide the uncertainty in his voice. Laurie rolled her eyes. She was right, though he wasn't about to admit it. He didn't think it would take much more for his rock-solid stomach to burst. Still, while his confidence was gone, his stubbornness wasn't. He sat upright, his loosened belt still feeling snug on his tummy, and picked up his fifth mozzarella stick. Laurie sighed and turned away to watch Dave bowl.
Sunny had no space left in his stomach, but that wasn't stopping him, not just yet. Each bite felt like it stretched his already too-tight belly further, and his stomach felt like it was straining to hold itself together around the enormous boulder of cheese. He took another slow bite, and then another, his belly letting out a strangled gurgle of protest as it struggled to squeeze in the incoming bites. It felt tighter than a drum, his sides aching as they bulged from the immense pressure inside him, his belly button threatening to pop out with each shallow breath. Finally, it was too much. The choice was quit or burst. Reluctantly, he dropped the half-eaten stick back in the basket.
"Boy, you're gonna be feeling that for a few days," Carrie remarked, giving his belly a sympathetic pat. It felt hard and solid.
"Serves him right," said Laurie. "You are such a knucklehead, Sunny."