Birdseed

Millet. Sunflower seeds. Cracked corn.

The contents unchewable for human teeth. Digestion—not going to happen. But you have a mission, a stomach hardcore-ly determined. Desperate. Because you’ve eaten and purged your way through the entire kitchen. Even the flour and maple syrup have been mixed with water—that’s close enough to cookie dough—swallowed, then un-swallowed. You have no other food options.

So you head down to the basement to see what you can find. Who knows what snacks might be hiding in hiking bags and camping supply plastic tubs?

Nothing, apparently.

Nothing but a big ol’ bag of birdseed sitting squat on top of that metal rickety thing.

Millet. Sunflower seeds. Cracked corn.

You unclip and unfold the bag’s opening. Reach your hand inside and consider how crazy this is. But again, the stomach. The hungry ghost of a stomach. The impulse. And the addiction for that moment of the calm after a purging storm. Here it comes.

Millet. Sunflower seeds. Cracked corn.

You don’t even know what millet is.

It doesn’t matter. Hand grasping birdseed, toss—no, shove—it in your mouth, the small hard bits you attempt to chew but can’t. Of course you can’t. So just swallow it all, assuage that angry stomach, pray you’ll be able to relinquish it without creating deep scratches in your throat and god knows where else. Plus, then wonder momentarily that if you can’t purge it, how many calories are in birdseed?

Millet. Sunflower seeds. Cracked corn.

Now, three handfuls. Then a few more. Not the entire bag because that would be more insane than binging and purging on some birdseed. Apparently, you do have some control. But will you actually be able to upsurge these bits without ripping something inside you?

Run to the bathroom to find out.

Millet. Sunflower seeds. Cracked corn.

Now attempting to ascend.