The Buttery Beast

                                    

                                          
Once there was a beast who liked to eat whole sticks of butter. He grew fat as two whales and a school bus. All his friends would laugh at his buttery bread rolls. Their words cut deep as the deep Adele would be rolling in. Yet, the worst one was his mother. She called him a fat pig, though he was indeed a bear. 
                          
In a fit of rage, he jumped out the window in an effort to escape. In the end, he broke his leg and lost his tray of buttery bread rolls. He knew he could not survive without it so he decided to eat every stick of butter in the kingdom in an attempt to hibernate. He decided to go to his middle school bully, Possum's house first, for the Possum loved food. He snuck into the possum's kitchen at night and searched for the butter. At this point, he could not see very well and stumbled right into the fridge. Excited, the Beast rummaged the fridge for butter. He could only find a lonely tub of, "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!" The beast became disappointed but was too hungry to pass it up. He decided to take everything from the fridge and hide it for revenge. Satisfied with his work, the Beast moved on to his next victim: His old third grade teacher- Mr. Woodpecker. 
                          
As he walked up to Mr.Woodpecker's house he heard a faint tap, tap, tap. Mr. Woodpecker was pecking away at the branch his nest was resting upon. He snuck behind him let out a ferocious roar. Startled, the woodpecker fell out of the tree and died. He grabbed the buttery mess from his nest and shoveled it into his mouth. Then grabbed his body and went on is way. The beast tossed the woodpecker's body into a lake without a second thought and continued on his butter thirsty quest.
                          
Two houses down, he thought. He was still not satisfied. So he decided to truly be satisfied he must face his one true fear. His mom.
                          
She was sitting on a rocking chair, knitting herself a red scarf. At this time he started having butter withdraws. Before facing his true fear, he needed strength. So he quietly tiptoed to the fridge. He opened the fridge to find shelves stocked full of sticks of butter. 
                          
The butter almost seemed to glow in the fridge. In what could be the most glorious moment in his life he didn't see his mom waddle in. His mom took a sandal in preparation to defend herself, understanding her son's violent nature. He took the stick of butter and raised above his head. "I'm not the pig anymore." Then violently slapped her with the butter making her drop the sandal. She fell on the floor covered with the golden goodness, and took one final breath.
                          
"You... were... adopted," His mother whispered before dying. Her eyes closed and fell asleep, never to wake up again. His eyes went wide as the realization hit him. She was a duck. She was always a duck. As for himself, he was a bear.
                          
His mind spun. The woman he just slapped with butter was never his mother. She had the audacity to lie to him. He filled with anger.
                          
His anger could only be fueled with one thing: butter. So with the knowledge of his mother's secret stash of butter he went on a rampage to find it. He shouted "Duck!" as he broke things. The crashing sounds of furniture splintering and crashing couldn't satisfy him. He needed more. He needed butter. He crashed through a living room wall, blinded by rage. And amidst the rubble of the thin wall, he found it- a closet that had been boarded up and re-plastered, filled top to bottom with butter.
                          
WIth the discovery of this wonderful closet he could not hold off longer than a second. He jumped into the piles of butter grabbing handfuls at a time and stuffing them into his mouth. The melted butter dribbled from his mouth and down his fur. He couldn't stop. He didn't stop to chew. He just ate and swallowed until his stomach felt like exploding.
                          
Once he was done, his stomach was so big he was immobile. He couldn't even look upwards when he heard shouting in the distance. Even with all the disrupting noises, he fell into a heavy sleep.
                          
The Beast dreamed of a glorious palace of gleaming butter. Soon, he woke to a mob of angry towns people surrounding him. They held pitchforks and torches. They had him cornered against the wall,  eyes gleaming with menace.
                          
"Never again will this beast terrorize our families," they chanted. "Never again will this beast take an innocent life. This ends tonight."
                          
The mob grew closer, the light of their torches throwing looming shadows on the crumbled walls. Fear filled his veins as he sat there with no means of escape. He raised his chubby finger and started to say his last words as they raised their weapons, but they let him out of respect of what he once was.
                          
The mob groaned. "He probably has a three hour speech prepared," One whispered to another. And he did. But he could only manage to croak out the word, "Butter-" before it became apparent that something was incredibly wrong.
                          
His face went white and he started sweating profusely. His hands became clammy as a sharp pain shot throughout his body. Everything hurt at the same time. His muscles tensed and in his daze, he knew that this was the end. He thought about his duck mom and of the palace of butter in his dream. And as his vision turned to black, he comforted himself at the thought of enjoying the butter palace with his mom if she'd forgive him and that all his pain and suffering would end here. With his final breath, he smiled. Maybe the first true smile of his life, and died peacefully. 
                          
The mob all stood there dumbfounded, in silent shock. After a few seconds, the sly fox finally spoke up. "Well, boys," He said, grinning mischievously amidst the rubble and the shocked faces of the crowd. "We eatin' good tonight!" And the mob cheered. 



                          
The End.