Why am I doing this to myself
Karl heads to the pantry as he always had every morning. He opens the dirt stained door that kept him from his breakfast. It opened with a screaming squeak as the rusty hinge tries to hold on for dear life. Karl reaches for the beautiful blue box with his sweat delights. It was a fresh box, not knowing what horrors it was to be subject to.
Karl tenderly gripped the box and softly set it down on the counter, slaming the door shut with his foot. "Hello my precious..." Karl says with a seductive undertone to his raspy voice. He grabs a knife from the drawer bellow and says, "Here... let me get you open..."
Karl slowly slices open the top of the box, being careful to not harm the delicate cardboard container. After successfully opening the box, kevin reaches in his hand and pulls out a tin foil wrapped pastry, the packaging reading, Poptart...
Karl's heart begins to race, his breathing heavy and deep, and his eyes pasted to the packaging of this delicious breakfast food. He grasps his knife harder and with more finesse, carefully makes a slit in the foil, then uses the knife to open it the rest of the way.
Karl grabs a fresh tart and holds it, passing it by his nose and breathing in its arousing aroma. Karl walks over the the corner of his kitchen and places the poptart into his white toaster, turning the timing to a spot already marked by a black line, labeled "Perfect time."
Karl can hear the ticking as the smell of the toasting poptart filled his kitchen, making him more roused than before. His heart was now racing and his hands trembling. He quickly threw open his plate cabinet and placed one on the counter. Jumping over the fridge, he grabs the freezing cold jug of milk from the front and pours a cup.
Karl, becoming inpatient starts yelling obscenities, saying things like, "Just give it to me! Come on I'm ready! Let me have it!"
At last, the freshly toasted poptart pops out of the toaster. Karl's ravenous drive took over and he begins devouring the poptart, leaving not a crumb behind. After which he washes it down with a cold glass of milk. He leaves the kitchen feeling satisfied. Karl throws on a coat, grabs his keys, and heads to work.
