With the speed and accuracy of an octopus,
Ten tiny fingers grasp sauce covered noodles.
In the blink of an eye,
they are gone.
I imagine this is what NASA sees
when the blackhole does it’s thing.
It’s funny to think about
an event horizon for spaghetti.
When the noodles disappear,
reinforcements are called in.
There seems to be no end.
A new tactic must be tried
Watermelon chunks are deployed.
With an even faster fervor,
They are rapidly depleted.
It seems the months between the last batch of watermelon
Left the taste buds longing.
Alas, the end is near.
The tiny hands begin to share the remnants of what’s left.
A toothy grin tells me
the Spaghetti Monster is satisfied.