As a staple of of a child’s library, I’m sure you are all familiar with Eric Carle’s infamous “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”. Or as I refer to it: “The Very Hungry Diabetic.”
Recently, this has become one of Bug’s bedtime favorite and I
am forced get to read this wondrous story at least twice a day.
As with everything, I tend to
be completely inappropriate think outside the box, and that doesn’t stop when it comes to children’s literature.
This is how I read “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”:
(Blah blah a caterpillar hatches out egg in the moonlight. By this time our hero has taken a week to eat through an entire fruit basket.)
On Saturday, he ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon. And that night, he had a stomachache.*
And diabetes with a side of heart disease.
On Sunday, the caterpillar ate through one nice green leaf and two packages of Pepcid and after that he felt much better.
Now he wasn’t hungry anymore – and he wasn’t a tiny caterpillar anymore. He was a big
FAT GROSSLY OBESE caterpillar.
He built a small house, called a cocoon, around himself. But not really. Because moths make cocoons. What the caterpillar really built was a chrysalis. But apparently entomology is not one of Eric Carle’s strengths, despite, you know, all his fucking books being written about insects.
He stayed in the “cocoon” for more than two weeks which sounds like a fucking vacation to me. Then he nibbled a hole in the “cocoon” (isn’t there a show on TLC about eating your house and laundry detergent and shit for people like this?), pushed his way out and…
He was a beautiful butterfly. He had a heart attack from his lifetime of unhealthy eating and lethargy.
*I am so proud and yet so ashamed that I wrote that entire sentence from memory. Kill me now.
Song title: Caterpillar to Butterfly by Omicron