Fiction: The food critic

Fongus was finishing writing his new article on food, he rose from his chair with some difficulty, his large size and belly making it difficult for him to walk. He would head to the kitchen and open the fridge, finding himself with a cold shock and a bluish light running down his body from his feet to his cardinal bald head.

He frowned and slammed the door shut. he went to his room and lay down, letting herself melt into the pastel-colored sheets with various patterns of glasses. His eyes surrendered to sleep, the weight of his eyelids, them marked by a few wrinkles, leaving his mind dark, tired from writing.

In the appointment with Morpheus, Fongus heard a sound in the distance, it was the catchy song of his cell phone, he opened his eyes with great effort, slowly coming back to the light trying to discern the reality of the moment. His big hands grabbed the cell phone dumbly, he tried to touch the green button, while he struggled to get out of the narcolepsy of the moment.

The whitish light of the cell phone reflected on his round cheeks like tennis balls. After several attempts, he finally managed to connect the call, a distorted and robotic voice, told him, "Hello, Pig, your stinking body is satiated already..., the free food that so much criticism has been to your liking?"

"Who is speaking? Identify yourself, you can't disrespect me like this." Fongus increased his tone of voice, as his blood boiled.

"Oink, onik, oink.... Shut up, pig, I was just calling to tell you that in one of the restaurants you went to eat for free two days ago, they gave you thallium that will kill you in a few hours, hahaha..."

Fongus' face turned a pale white and beads of sweat fell pertinaciously running down his round face. After coming out of shock, he would ask the mysterious voice, "why are you doing this, I don't do anything to anyone and just do my job."

"Fongus, Fongus, Fongus... Because of your harsh and horrible reviews many restaurants have closed, leaving many unemployed and lives shattered, now you must take on your fate of suffering and pain. Hahaha."

Fongus was stunned by what he heard. He tried to articulate words, as he thought about which restaurant gave him the deadly poison and how it had been possible that his refined taste had failed to detect the substance.

"You are a liar, I would never have been able to ingest the poison without realizing it." Fongus' anger was rising like freshly uncorked beer foam.

"Believe what you want, pig, I'm just the messenger of death, hahaha." The mystery man's laughter rang loudly through the earpiece.

"You're evil, why do you mock my suffering, I'm just an honest worker." Fongus' voice cracked between pleading sobs.

"You are a lying pig, your bellicose letters have made many people suffer, your inflated ego like your body, have caused misfortunes to many restaurant owners. You are not an innocent pigeon, pig." The robotic voice full of anger sentenced Fongus' horrible acts.

The critic began to think about all he had done and how he had treated the kind owners of every restaurant he visited in his entire career as a food writer, then realized that he had been a nasty bug and that because of him many people were suffering. His dark brown eyes reflected the light of the cell phone as a feeling of guilt swept through his whole great being.

"Pig, pig, pig, are you still there...or have you died already?" The robotic voice was heard insistently.

"Yes... Yes... Sure... sure..." Fongus could be heard hesitating. "If you would be so kind as to intercede for me before the marked fate."

"You are evil, pig, the only thing left for you is to die and pray that in your reincarnation you will be kinder to others." The robotic voice spoke justly about Fongus' deserved punishment.

The phone stopped ringing and the room went dark. Fongus was completely terrified, not knowing what to do, as he began to feel gastrointestinal discomfort. He realized he had started, went to the bathroom to vomit, the pains were increasing.

Hours passed desperately through his pains, he was delirious and regretted everything he had done driven by his ego as big as his own physique. The bone pains hammered his humanity and the other ailments drove Fongus towards an agonizing death.

The phone rang again, Fongus picked it up and between muscle spasms answered, it was the robotic voice again. "Hello, pig, still alive, I thought you'd be with the horned one by now. Hahaha."

"Please, whoever you are, help me I am slowly dying, I will give you anything to save me." Fongus pleaded and his glassy eyes expelled tears of terror in the face of death.

"You still don't get it, do you, pig. This is not about money, it is only atonement for your sins, you must pay for the evil you have done and soon what made you famous, will be your undoing."

Fongus kept appealing to the man's compassion, as the symptoms ran their course, he felt death was getting closer and closer. The words came and went, Fongus' pleading tone becoming more and more plaintive. The man on the other end of the line was like a judge waiting for the sentence to be carried out.

"I know I can't do anything anymore and maybe I deserve this, I just want to apologize to you and everyone I did wrong. I became obsessed with fame and fortune, I was a fool." Fongus wept bitterly and between cutting words resumed his rhetoric, "One day I met a good man whom I treated very badly, his name is William Garret, he was my assistant, he works at the "Gourmet Journal" magazine, please look him up and tell him that I am very sorry, that my jealousy overshadowed his great talent, tell him that I always admired his work and..."

The phone stopped ringing, Fongus suffered from glossitis, his tongue that had given him success was now inflamed, karma was present. Fongus fell unconscious and everything went black, then between lights and shadows he saw people in white, scenes of unconsciousness flashed by.

He heard a voice, it sounded familiar, it said, "take this pill 'Prussian blue' you will be better."

Then the figure was lost and Fongus returned to the shadows. A few days later, the food critic came back to life, opened his eyes and looked around the hospital room. A nurse at his side said, "Welcome back Mr. Fongus, you are a very lucky man, you were about to die, but an anonymous call alerted us to your terrible condition and then the miraculous recovery that still has us in awe."

Fongus was nodding his head, the swelling on his tongue still not subsiding. So he could only sign and blurt out a few barely intelligible words. Just then the phone rang and the nurse answered, "It's for you, sir."

"Hello, Fongus, I hope you have learned your lesson, there will be no more chances, I saved you once, don't count on the next one. By the way I gave your message to William Garret, he forgives you, you can rest easy now. Watch your tongue, my friend. Hahaha."

The end