“You are what you eat, little Johnny,” his mom warned, waving her perfectly manicured finger through the air. Her golden brown hair was set in big, loose curls, without a single piece out of place.
Johnny looked up into her big brown eyes, searching for some sign of sarcasm on her face. She stared back into her young son’s wide eyes, amazed at how much he looked like her. With a little laugh and a shake of her head, she turned around and went back to her housework in the other room.
Johnny was left alone at the kitchen table, with only the remainder of his dinner in front of him. He stared at the plate full of carrots and peas. Johnny didn’t want to be a carrot or a pea; he didn’t want to be bologna or jelly or mashed potatoes. He certainly didn’t want to be fish sticks or steak. He didn’t even want to be whatever animal bacon came from!
He wanted to be what he was—a little boy. He looked up and down at his arm, and realized what he needed to do. Little Johnny made up his mind. From that moment on he would only eat people, thus ensuring he would always be a little boy. He would eat what he was and he’d be what he ate.