Homer Globberschnoot
His parents warned him again and again about eating too much junk food. But Homer just wouldn't listen.
[Ed. note: This is an original story told by my late mother, Martha Campbell with updated words by me.]
Homer Globberschnoot was a little boy who lived with his parents in a nice house in a nice neighborhood in a very nice little town.
Homer had everything a kid could want. Lots of toys, a great bicycle with racing stripes, and a kitchen that was always filled with good things to eat.
There was just one problem. Homer had a sweet tooth. In fact it was more than a sweet tooth.
He just loved to eat junk food. But it wasn’t only candy and cake. He also loved Cheetos and Fritos and Doritos and all the other foods that end with “itos.” French fries and soda pop and milk shakes and pastries, Homer couldn’t get enough.
No matter how many times his parents told him to lay off the junk food, Homer didn’t listen. If it was unhealthy, he wanted to eat it.
One Sunday morning Homer woke up starving for a treat. So he ate a whole bag of peanut butter cookies for breakfast. He didn’t touch the food his mom made for him at lunch. Instead, he went into the kitchen when no one was looking and ate an entire raspberry cheesecake with whipped cream. He told his parents he wasn’t hungry at dinner time, but he snuck a box of chocolate covered donuts and a bag of potato chips into his room and scarfed them down before falling asleep in a pile of crumbs.
His parents found out about it, of course. How could so much food go missing so quickly without anyone noticing? So they made a new rule. They told Homer that from now on he could only have one sweet per day.
Homer didn’t like this rule. So he thought of a plan.
The next day Homer played hooky from school and instead went to the convenience store. He loaded up his backpack with candy bars, grape soda, and cheese puffs. Then he told his mom and dad his bag was filled with books. When he got home, he locked himself in his room and stuffed his face.
As the days passed, Homer gained weight. He didn’t like exercise, and he never ate fruits and vegetables. Homer got chubbier and chubbier. He was lazy, too, and he rarely changed his shirt, which was becoming too short to cover his belly. His room was cluttered with candy wrappers and dirty clothes. It looked like a pig sty.
His parents were very concerned, so they made another rule. No more junk food, period. They would only buy healthy food from the grocery store, and Homer would be forced to eat his vegetables.
When they told Homer about the new rule, he threw a huge temper tantrum and screamed at his parents. So they sent him to his room for the rest of the day. Homer didn’t want to eat yucky green stuff so he thought about it all evening. Then Homer came up with a new plan, more devious than the last one.
The next day Homer went to school like any normal day. But during recess, Homer snuck into the school cafeteria and found a big freezer. He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the floor eating chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream with his bare hands. When the school janitor found him lying in a pile of empty ice cream boxes, Homer ran away as fast as his plump little legs could carry him.
He ran all the way home, sweating and snorting and covered head to toe in sticky chocolate smudge. When he got home, his mother saw the way he looked and screamed:
“HOMER, YOU LOOK LIKE A PIG!”
His father saw Homer’s dirty face and upturned nose and didn’t even recognize his own son. Homer’s parents were horrified. They gave him a bath and sat him down to have a talk.
“Homer,” said his father. “I’m only going to warn you one last time. If you keep this up, you’ll be mistaken for a feral pig and locked away in an animal shelter.”
“Or taken to the slaughterhouse and turned into bacon!” added his mother.
Homer cried himself to sleep that night. But not because he was ashamed of what he had done. He was sad that he didn’t even get the chance to finish all that ice cream. So Homer came up with another plan. This time, it was his master plan.
For the next few days, Homer behaved like a good boy, ate his vegetables, and somehow managed to avoid any sweets. Mr. and Mrs. Globberschnoot were very relieved that everything seemed to be going well.
“We’re so proud of you, Homer!” his mother said. That’s when Homer knew the moment was right.
He asked his parents if he could spend Saturday at the public library so he could read and do homework. Delighted by this, they offered to give him a ride. “See you later,” he told them with a smile when they dropped him off at the front of the library. But Homer had no interest in reading and books.
No sooner had his parents driven away than Homer sprinted out the backdoor of the library, down the alley, and across the street to Fat Charlie’s Candy Shoppe. Homer paused for a moment in front of the store to bask in the light of the blinking neon sign.
Then he entered the shop and went on a junk food binge the likes of which had never been seen before or since.
Homer stuffed his face with handfuls of chocolates and licorice. He filled his pockets to the brim with gummy bears and sweet tarts, and then devoured an entire bin of jelly beans in one swallow. He gobbled, guzzled, and gulped everything he could get into his mouth before the shopkeeper noticed and started shouting for him to leave.
Not wanting to repeat the mistake of leaving too many sweets uneaten, Homer shoveled piles of candy into his backpack before fleeing. Then the shopkeeper called the police.
Caught up in a sugar rush, Homer ran down the alley and directly into a trash can. He flew to the ground and rolled in a heap of garbage that scattered at his feet. But Homer was so satisfied, he didn’t mind. He just got up and kept running. A couple blocks later, he fell in a mud puddle and splattered himself with dirt.
By this time, the police had responded to the shopkeeper’s call and were patrolling the neighborhood on the lookout for the candy store thief.
Meanwhile, Homer continued to huff and puff his way down the street. He was covered head to toe in mud and garbage and sticky candy goo, with only his pug nose protruding through the mess. His face was dripping with a mix of sweat and fudge, and he could barely see in front of him.
Then he fell again, and this time the candy in his backpack and pockets spilled all around him. Homer wallowed in it, half in pain, half in heaven.
Looking up from the street gutter, Homer caught a glimpse of a police car coming down the road. He knew he had to get away, but he had no more strength to run. So Homer crawled on all fours.
People walking down the street gawked at the sight, and some began to point and shout. “There’s a pig on the loose!” someone screamed. A crowd began to form, but Homer shuffled through it, snarling at them to move.
Unfortunately, his mouth was so full of candy, he could barely get the words out. With his teeth stuck together, his voice just sounded like a series of oinks and grunts.
Noticing the commotion, a policeman approached to see what was going on. He took one look at Homer crawling down the street, snuffling and squealing, and leaving a trail of stinky candy slime in his wake, and he used his radio to call animal control.
The city animal control team arrived quickly. They had already received several calls about a filthy beast running hog wild through the city. Wearing nose clips to spare themselves from the awful smell, they used sticks to corral Homer in a wooden crate and threw him in the back of a truck. The police thanked them for their bravery, and the truck left.
Homer was placed in a cage at the animal shelter, where he collapsed from exhaustion and slept for the next few hours. It wasn’t until later that night when they hosed Homer down that the animal control team discovered the truth.
“I’m not a pig,” Homer said when he finally woke up with a jump. “I’M HOMER GLOBBERSCHNOOT!”
His parents picked him up and took him home. No one said a word about any of it for the rest of the night. The next day, Homer ate his vegetables. And started thinking of another plan.