Raising a hamburger to his watering mouth his eyes were caught by the flickering television set. Bowflex. The chiseled manikins faintly resembling men rotated their limbs bending rods that shouldn’t be bending. Was it animated? Camera angles? Makeup or drugs? It wasn’t real.
The once fragrant manwich paused before his mouth turned bland. He rested it back onto its plate. His eyes continued on the alien nature the set was presenting. Unconsciously his hand reached down and grabbed a French-fry, but as it rose his nose caught smell of it. The basted warm nothing caused a stomach fit.
As the commercial ended he stood up dropping his plate of semi-edibles and marched outside. His eyes lit up as if he had never had light bulbs for eyes before. It burned really badly and he screamed, “Bloody Murder!”