Mortadella was a sasquatch from the old country. The old country was without a Cinnabon franchise. Mortadella was a modern, professional woman. She read thick books in a circle chair from Pier 1 Imports. She also enjoyed squash, & explaining Netflix to her neighbours. One day Mortadella felt very lonely. She rose out of her spherical chair, & decided to sail to the end of the world. She tried to explain this to her neighbours, but they only ordered another conversation that they had with Mortadella earlier that week; one that they preferred to hear again. Mortadella purchased a decorative, wicker sailboat from Pier 1 Imports. She walked the sailboat down to the pier. Then she sailed, she slept, she sailed, she ate a raw fish, she slept, she sailed, she sailed, & finally she beached in the new country. She walked along the rocky coastline. She felt a gravelly rumble in her sasquatch tummy. She felt the need to fill herself up. She reached into her purse, & removed a handful of wheat. Then she cast out the seed along the beach. “Rise,” Mortadella said. The wheat did not rise. Mortadella then began to throw fistfuls of money at the fallen wheat. “Rise,” Mortadella said. The wheat began to rise. It rose high, hot, & sticky. It rose like a Cinnabon. The indigenous peoples of the beach were ancient, primative peoples. They arrived in droves. They all wanted a modern, professional treat. They all lived hard, indigenous lives. Their professional lives consisted of moving spherical rocks from one end of the beach to the other end of the beach. They all deserved something imported, & sweet. “Yes,” said Mortadella “you do deserve a sweet, imported treat, but not these. These treats are mine. You may order them after I have finished with them.”
