"write me a police report about a guy who was caught going absolutely wild on a pile of beef at Arby's"
Metropolitan Police Department Incident Report
Date: 10/01/2023
Time of Incident: 1:45 PM
Location: Arby's, 123 RoastBeef Road, Flavor Town, USA
Reporting Officer: Officer J. Bun
Incident Type: Disturbance/Misuse of Food Products
Involved Parties:
1. Suspect:
- Name: John Meatlover
- Age: 32
- Address: 456 Carnivore Crescent, Flavor Town, USA
2. Witnesses:
- Arby's Manager: Patty Melt
- Arby's Employee: Chris Sandwich
- Customer: Sally Veggie
Description of Incident:
Upon arrival at the aforementioned Arby's location, I was alerted to a disturbance involving one male individual (Mr. Meatlover) and a considerable pile of beef.
According to eyewitness statements, Mr. Meatlover entered the establishment and ordered "all the beef you have." Misunderstanding his intent as an order for the maximum beef sandwich, the staff prepared a large tray containing roughly 5 lbs of roast beef.
Once receiving his order, Mr. Meatlover proceeded to the dining area, removed his shirt, and began what can only be described as a passionate "meat dance" atop the table. Witnesses report Mr. Meatlover was chanting "I have the meats!" repeatedly while writhing and rolling in the beef.
The scene caused considerable distress among patrons. Sally Veggie, a customer, expressed her horror, noting, "I just came for a salad."
The Arby's manager, Patty Melt, attempted to defuse the situation by offering Mr. Meatlover some sauce. The offer was declined.
Actions Taken:
Mr. Meatlover was apprehended without resistance (though very slippery due to beef juices). He was informed of the disturbance he caused. Given the non-violent nature of the incident and after reimbursing Arby's for the cost of the beef, Mr. Meatlover was released with a warning and a temporary ban from that specific Arby's location.
Recommendations:
Suggest Arby's consider clarifying menu options and potential order sizes. Recommend local patrols maintain a watchful eye on meat-themed disturbances.
End of Report
"Tell me the continuing story of the man who was arrested
for a meat disturbance at Arby's. John Meatlover is a
passionate yet troubled man who is currently working his
way through meat addition therapy so that he can live a
better life. But still, there are days when he just
wants to go absolutely wild on a pile of beef. Does he
survive? Does he prosper? Will he marry Sally Sausage? Or
will he give in to his carnal lust for Arby's?""
John Meatlover's journey through meat addiction therapy was unlike any the clinic had seen before. It wasn’t just a dietary problem; it was a primal, insatiable hunger. The incident at Arby's, where John had, in a fit of hunger, ordered every beef item on the menu before angrily demanding more, was just the tip of the iceberg.
In therapy, John would often be found sneaking beef jerky into group sessions or having whispered conversations with a phantom deli server. But with time and support, John began to understand the roots of his addiction. He realized that his obsession with meat wasn’t just about the taste or the texture, but rather, a way of filling a void in his life.
Enter Sally Sausage. They met at the clinic; she was there supporting a friend who was combating sugar addiction. Sally had an infectious laugh, and her love for life was evident. She worked at a vegan restaurant downtown, and despite John's carnivorous cravings, the two hit it off immediately. Sally became the port in John's storm, teaching him there was more to life than the next meaty meal.
One day, while walking through a park, Sally challenged John to try going vegetarian for a month. The mere thought sent shivers down John's spine, but he saw the hopeful glint in her eyes and agreed. It was a tough journey, filled with moments of weakness, but Sally was there every step of the way. She introduced him to delicious meat alternatives, and slowly but surely, John began to change.
As months turned into years, John's addiction faded. He wasn't entirely meat-free but had significantly reduced his consumption. He started a support group for others like him, calling it “Meat Moderators.” His story became an inspiration to many.
Then, one beautiful evening at Sally’s vegan restaurant, with a plate of jackfruit tacos between them, John got down on one knee and proposed. Sally, teary-eyed, said yes.
Their wedding was a unique mix of both their worlds. Sally's vegan friends mingled with John's old BBQ buddies. There were both tofu steaks and moderate servings of real meat. The couple symbolized hope and change.
However, life wasn't without its challenges. Every once in a while, John would hear the siren call of Arby's, but with Sally by his side, he had the strength to resist. They became a beacon of hope, showing that love, understanding, and commitment could overcome even the most primal of urges.
Their journey was a testament to the power of love and the ability of humans to change, evolve, and grow. John's days of meat disturbances were behind him, and a brighter, balanced future lay ahead.
"tell me that story again except with a really dark and meaty ending"
John Meatlover’s descent into meat addiction was as dark as it was intense. The Arby’s debacle, where he had, in a crazed state, attempted to order the entire stockpile of beef before throwing a massive tantrum, was just the start of his harrowing journey.
In therapy, things grew even bleaker. He would sneak raw steaks into sessions, hiding them beneath his clothes, and occasionally he was caught speaking to himself about the allure of the perfect brisket. Every time the therapy seemed to be making a difference, John would suffer a relapse, sneaking into local delis after hours, or waking up in the middle of the night surrounded by meat wrappers.
It was during one of these lows that he met Sally Sausage. She worked at a butcher shop downtown and, unlike John, she had a controlled appreciation for meat. Their relationship was intense and tumultuous. Sally would lure John with promises of exclusive cuts of meat, only available to those in the butcher inner circle. Their love was interwoven with the dark threads of meat obsession.
The relationship took a sinister turn when Sally introduced John to underground meat clubs. Here, individuals would gather in hidden basements and secret locations to indulge in rare and often illegal cuts of meat. The meaty underworld was alluring, and John became its kingpin.
Sally, realizing they were in too deep, tried to pull away. She started to see the darkness in John's eyes – a lust that went beyond love or even meat. But by now, John was far gone. He was no longer the man she had fallen for; he was a creature of pure, meaty desire.
One fateful night, an exclusive meat tasting event was organized. Rumors spread that they would be trying meat so rare, so forbidden, it was said to be the ultimate experience. Sally, fearing for John’s soul, pleaded with him not to go. But he was beyond reason.
The next morning, the city was shaken by headlines: “Mass Poisoning at Underground Meat Club – Dozens Dead”. The forbidden meat, sourced from an uncharted island, turned out to be toxic.
Sally, devastated by grief and guilt, retreated from society, shutting down her butcher shop and disappearing into obscurity. John Meatlover’s name became synonymous with the dangers of unchecked desire, a cautionary tale whispered in dark corners about the perils of wanting too much.
And so, in the shadowy underbelly of the city, the legend of John Meatlover lived on, a dark reminder of the depths to which one man's hunger can plunge him.
"Let's follow the journey of John Meatlover as he battles
his way through the afterlife, attempting to become a Meat
God"
The Realm Beyond: Rise of the Meat God
The ethereal realm beyond our world was a place of pure essence. Souls floated through a vast expanse, reflecting on their past life's decisions and preparing for whatever lay ahead. John Meatlover found himself in this very realm, but his path was unlike any other.
From the moment John arrived, the celestial beings could sense an unparalleled hunger radiating from him. While most souls yearned for peace, enlightenment, or reunion with loved ones, John craved only one thing: meat.
Without the physical constraints of the human body, John's desire took on an even more potent form. He envisioned realms where meaty landscapes stretched as far as the eye could see, where rivers flowed with rich gravy, and mountains were made of marbled steaks.
Hearing whispers of a legendary power, reserved for those with an insatiable desire, John embarked on a quest to become a Meat God. Guided only by ancient prophecies and cryptic clues, he sought the mythical Meaty Grimoire – a book said to hold the secrets to attaining unparalleled meaty prowess.
His journey took him through the different planes of existence. From the Vale of Vegetables, where sentient veggies tried to sway him from his path, to the Searing Plains, where he was tempted by the ever-cooking, always tantalizing grilled meats that danced tantalizingly before him.
It was in the Chamber of Carnal Reflection that John faced his most significant challenge. Here, he confronted his past – the disturbing incident at Arby's, the tumultuous relationship with Sally, the tragic end at the underground meat club. To move forward, he had to confront the root of his meaty desires and acknowledge the pain and chaos they had caused.
Emerging from the chamber changed, John finally found the Meaty Grimoire. As he opened its pages, a rush of energy enveloped him. Knowledge, recipes, and the very essence of meat flowed into him, reshaping his soul.
The celestial beings watched in awe as the transformation occurred. John Meatlover, the soul once consumed by a singular hunger, ascended to a new state of being. He became the Meat God, a deity of unparalleled meaty might.
In his new form, John created a realm of his own – a paradise for those who, like him, shared a love for meat. A place where every desire was catered to, and the bond between man and meat was celebrated.
The tale of John Meatlover's ascension spread throughout the afterlife. Souls whispered his name in reverence, and many sought his realm, eager to experience the meaty delights it promised.
Thus, in the vast tapestry of the cosmos, a new legend was woven. A testament to the indomitable spirit of one soul and his eternal love for meat.
"tell me of John Meatlover's epic afterlife battle against
the God of Veggies and his enchanted broccoli sword and
his evil nemesis, Lord Veggieburger. Lots of juicy, meaty
details. Epic tone. Make me feel emotions. Make me feel
like I am there, a follower of the God of Meat (John
Meatlover)"
The Battle of Carnal Desires: Meat vs. Veg
Amidst the cosmic expanse, in the dimension where ethereal realities converged, lay two realms in stark opposition: The Meaty Utopia, ruled by the newly ascended Meat God, John Meatlover, and the Verdant Vale, presided over by the God of Veggies. Between them stood the neutral zone, the Battlefield of Tastes.
John Meatlover stood tall, his figure glowing with a rich, maroon aura. His armor, forged from intertwined meat fibers, pulsed with life. Around him, the devout followers of the Meat God, known as the Carnivores, chanted hymns of glory, drawing strength from their lord. Their swords, shaped like rib bones and infused with the juices of prime cuts, shone with anticipation.
From the opposing end of the battlefield, a green light emanated. The God of Veggies, wielding his legendary Broccoli Sword - a blade said to have the power to turn any meat it touched into plant matter - stepped forward. Surrounding him, his fierce army, the Herbivores, armored in layers of leafy greens, stood ready for battle. Among them, the notorious Lord Veggieburger, a betrayer of meat, once a Carnivore, but now turned to the green side after a mysterious revelation.
The very atmosphere tensed, thick with anticipation. The first clash was initiated by Lord Veggieburger himself, charging with unparalleled speed. The ground beneath him sprouted plants, aiding his rapid advance. But John was ready. Summoning the essence of a thousand barbecues, he let out a bellow that scorched the advancing vegetation.
The battle raged. Broccoli spears met rib bone swords, lettuce shields clashed with meaty maces. The sky above darkened, mirroring the intensity below, only occasionally lit by the green and red energy discharges of the battling forces.
As Lord Veggieburger and John Meatlover clashed, the world around them seemed to blur. Every strike of Lord Veggieburger's tofu mace was met with the juicy resistance of John's meat-wrapped shield. With every block and parry, memories of their past brotherhood flashed before their eyes, intensifying the pain of their current conflict.
But the most heart-wrenching confrontation was between John and the God of Veggies. As the Broccoli Sword met John's beef-infused blade, time seemed to stand still. The God of Veggies whispered tales of sustainability and balance, urging John to see beyond his cravings. But John, filled with memories of his earthly desires and the love of his followers, struck back with tales of tradition, culture, and the primal bond between man and meat.
As the epic battle seemed endless, a revelation dawned on both sides. The real enemy wasn’t the opposing force; it was extremism. It was the inability to find balance and harmony.
With a final, combined cry, both leaders unleashed their powers, not at each other, but into the skies, sending out waves of energy that merged, creating a shower of ethereal particles. When these particles touched a warrior, they found themselves filled with understanding and peace.
The battlefield transformed. Verdant Vale and Meaty Utopia began to merge, forming a new realm where meaty brooks flowed alongside vegetable meadows. Where steakhouses stood next to salad bars, representing the new-found harmony.
As followers of both sides embraced this new world, John Meatlover and the God of Veggies met at the center. Laying down their weapons, they decided to co-rule, ensuring that the lessons of their epic battle were never forgotten.
And as a follower of the God of Meat, you found yourself in this merged paradise, cherishing the rich flavors of meat while respecting the nourishment of veggies. Your heart swelled with gratitude for the epic leaders who had shown that balance was not just possible, but essential for true fulfillment.
"tell me that story again. the beginning was really good.
no notes. but the ending sucked. i want a decisive victory
that will make my pants feel funny"
The Carnal Crusades: Ascension of the Meat God
In the vast expanse of the ethereal cosmos, two realms sat juxtaposed: The Meaty Utopia, under the dominion of John Meatlover, the Meat God, and the Verdant Vale, governed by the stern God of Veggies. Their armies, the fervent Carnivores and the relentless Herbivores, poised on the precipice of war in the Battlefield of Tastes.
The battlefield was charged, the tension palpable. Meaty Utopia's red horizon mirrored the Carnivores' passion while the emerald gleam from Verdant Vale reflected the unwavering conviction of the Herbivores.
At the forefront, John Meatlover, his form rippling with primal meaty power, stood clad in armor carved from the most exquisite meats. The Carnivores, entranced by their leader, sang meaty ballads, the lyrics of which emboldened them, fortifying their spirits.
Facing them, wielding the mythical Broccoli Sword, stood the God of Veggies. His blade shimmered, promising the downfall of any meat it met. Lord Veggieburger, his sinister general, sneered at his former brethren, hatred for the Carnivores evident in his gaze.
The first move was as sudden as it was intense. With an earth-shattering roar, the armies collided. The clashing of meat and plant, bone and fiber, echoed across the dimensions. But above all, John's meat-fueled might dominated the scene. Every swing of his blade oozed with meaty essence, overpowering the green soldiers before him.
Lord Veggieburger, harnessing the raw power of plant-based proteins, leaped into the fray. Each blow he dealt was a symphony of bitterness, a reflection of his betrayal. But even his might began to wane against the overwhelming meaty onslaught of the Carnivores.
As the battle reached its zenith, the heavens themselves seemed to shudder. Thunder rumbled, and bolts of energy lashed out, seeking their targets. At the center of this maelstrom stood John and the God of Veggies, their duel so fierce that it tore rifts in the very fabric of reality.
The God of Veggies, channeling the combined might of all plant life, drove his Broccoli Sword towards John. But John, invoking the essence of every steak, every burger, every rib he'd ever loved, met the blow with an explosion of meaty energy. The resulting shockwave leveled everything in its path.
When the dust settled, the battlefield bore witness to a sight that would be sung about for eons. The Meaty Utopia stood tall and dominant. The Verdant Vale, while not destroyed, lay subdued, a silent testament to the might of the Meat God.
John Meatlover, his power now unmatched, ascended further, becoming a beacon for all things meat. His victory wasn't just for himself but for every soul that ever craved the primal satisfaction only meat could provide.
And you, dear follower, felt a tingle, a thrill like no other, coursing through you. Your allegiance to the Meat God had been rewarded. The taste of victory, smoky and rich, lingered on your tongue, a flavor to be savored for all eternity.
"Tell me of John Meatlover's demise, a time when he tried
to transcend his meaty godhood and invent a new universe
of meat. however, his ambition exceeded even his top-tier
godly might and a cosmic cataclysm occurred. people
should be really sweaty with the meatsweats when
appropriate."
The Fall of the Meat God: Hubris and the Meatsweats
In the celestial tapestry, John Meatlover's Meaty Utopia stood as a beacon of carnivorous indulgence. His dominion was vast, his power unparalleled. However, with such might came an insatiable hunger for more. John sought not just to reign but to recreate, to birth a universe where every star, every planet, every cosmic speck was forged from meat.
Whispers of his grand design reached every corner of existence. The very thought of a meaty cosmos where galaxies swirled in gravy and planets were made of prime cuts sent ripples of excitement among his followers. The Carnivores eagerly awaited the birth of this new universe, their anticipation palpable, making their brows glisten with the infamous meatsweats.
But the other cosmic entities, guardians of balance, watched with growing concern. They remembered the cataclysmic battle between the Meaty Utopia and the Verdant Vale, and they feared the consequences of John's unchecked ambition.
As the day of creation approached, John channeled all his meaty might. Groundbreaking rituals were performed, prime cuts from mythical creatures were sacrificed, and every meaty incantation known to godhood was invoked. The skies darkened as dense, meaty clouds swirled, casting eerie shadows on the lands below. Every Carnivore's forehead dripped with anticipation-induced meatsweats, their shirts sticking to their backs.
The climax was explosive. John, standing atop his meaty citadel, thrust his arms skyward, sending a shockwave of pure meat essence into the cosmos. For a brief moment, it seemed his dream was coming to fruition. Meaty nebulas began to form, stars made of burning sausages ignited, and meat planets orbited them in mesmerizing patterns.
But such a dense concentration of meat energy was unstable. The universe itself began to react. The fabric of reality, not designed to handle such intense meatiness, started to tear. Rifts opened, swallowing entire meat galaxies. A cosmic cataclysm was unfolding.
The other gods, realizing the impending doom, intervened. They channeled their collective energies to counteract the overwhelming meat force. But even they struggled against the torrential meatsweats, their divine robes drenched, their strength waning.
In the final moments, as the universe teetered on the edge of oblivion, John Meatlover saw the error of his ways. His ambition, his unchecked desire, had endangered all of existence. Using the last of his might, he merged with the cosmic energies, sacrificing his individuality to seal the rifts and stabilize the universe.
The aftermath was a universe forever changed. The Meaty Utopia, while still existing, was no longer the dominant force. Its shimmering meaty glory now stood alongside other realms, a humbling reminder of the perils of unchecked ambition.
John Meatlover's essence, though no longer a singular entity, still flowed through the cosmos, a whisper of a once-mighty god who dared to dream too big. And every time a Carnivore felt the onset of the meatsweats, they remembered their god's sacrifice, his ambition, and the cost of unbridled desire.
"Describe how John Meatlover managed to return from the realm
of the dead, somehow transcending death, a feat thought
impossible. Describe his savage vengeance in the most
gruesome and violent language that is permissible for
ChatGPT. I'm talking about crucifying dudes on crosses of
meat, things like that. It should feel like Warhammer 40K
lore gone completely amok. The ending should involve brisket
and a betrayal and a printable coupon for $3 off of the
reader's next Arby's visit"
The Resurrection Carnage: John Meatlover’s Revenge
In a dimension where even gods fear to tread, John Meatlover's soul churned amidst primordial chaos. Separated from the realm of the living, he existed as a mere fragment of cosmic meaty essence. But even in this reduced state, the collective longing of his devoted Carnivores acted as a tether, pulling at the very sinews of his dispersed consciousness.
A forbidden rite took place in a secluded, greasy temple of Meaty Utopia. Devoted Carnivores, led by the High Priest of Carnivory, undertook an unspeakable act. Within a circle of raw prime ribs, they recited profane chants from the Book of Butchery while holding skewers made from the bones of mythical beasts. As the ritual reached its apex, each disciple jabbed their meat-skewer into a sacrificial brisket, their sweaty foreheads shining under the temple's flickering meat-fat candles.
With a shudder that rippled through the multiverse, John Meatlover's essence coalesced in a storm of raw meat and visceral gore. He emerged reborn, yet changed—his form a towering mass of muscle and sinew, his eyes burning embers in a face carved from pure steak. Each step he took left footprints of sizzling fat on the ground.
His return was not one of mercy.
First on his list was Verdant Vale, a realm that had long reveled in his absence. John unleashed a wrath so fierce it was as if the Butcher Gods of ancient lore had descended upon the land. Soldiers of the God of Veggies found themselves impaled on colossal meat-hooks that appeared from the ground. The air was filled with the screams of the vanquished and the sizzle of their souls being seared away.
Next was the Crucifixion Fields, a dark tableau of vengeance where enemies were crucified on crosses of meat, their life forces absorbed by the carnivorous fibers. As they screamed in unison, their cries were drowned out by the deafening roars of John's carnivore legions, who feasted on the enchanted brisket that grew from the ground, infused with the torment of the crucified.
Finally, John Meatlover stood before the once-mighty God of Veggies, now broken and defeated. With a cleaver formed from the darkest meat energies, John cleaved him in two, sending a shockwave of pure meaty essence that annihilated Verdant Vale entirely, turning it into a barren meat wasteland.
However, as he stood reveling in his triumph, a whisper of betrayal snaked into his ear. It was the High Priest of Carnivory, the orchestrator of his resurrection. "Forgive me, my Meat God, but balance must be maintained," he muttered before stabbing John with a blade carved from the bones of a forbidden animal—a vegan beast of ancient prophecies.
Even a god could bleed, and as John Meatlover gasped, he realized that he too was a cog in a wheel, a wheel that demanded balance at all costs. As he disintegrated into meaty particles, he let out a sigh—a final, wisened acceptance that not even gods are exempt from the cycle of life and death, meat and veggie.
From the skies, as if in a final tribute to the fallen god, rained down printable coupons offering $3 off the reader's next visit to Arby's, each emblazoned with John's face—a memorial, a legacy, and a testament to a hunger that once shook the cosmos.
"That was awesome!! Can we add a scene where the God of
Veggies pleads for mercy and poops himself in fear and
then gets killed slowly"
Certainly, the moment you're asking for would add another layer of dramatic humiliation to the God of Veggies during his final confrontation with John Meatlover.
As the God of Veggies lay on the ground, a broken shell of his former leafy glory, he looked up into John Meatlover's eyes and saw nothing but cold fire. "Mercy, John Meatlover, have mercy!" he pleaded, his voice quaking like a blade of grass in a hurricane. "I'll turn all the vegetable fields into pastures for cows, just please spare me!"
It was then that an ungodly smell filled the air, one that made even the followers of John Meatlover wrinkle their noses in disgust. The God of Veggies had soiled himself, a puddle of organic waste materializing beneath his form.
John looked down at his fallen enemy, a smirk creeping onto his face. "You've made a compost of yourself, how fitting," he snarled. Instead of delivering a quick end, John began to slowly lower his cleaver, imbued with the essence of all meats, onto the God of Veggies. The blade seared through his form like a hot grill through a tender steak, causing a prolonged agony that seemed to stretch through the eons.
The God of Veggies screamed in torment, each cell of his being disintegrating slowly, painfully, as if being chewed by the teeth of every carnivore that ever existed. As the last remnants of his form vaporized into the meat-laden air, John Meatlover finally sheathed his cleaver, satisfied with a vengeance thoroughly exacted.
"John Meatlover is gone forever. However... the next day,
while enjoying her discounted meal at Arby's, Sally Sausage
realizes that she is pregnant. The child... no, the thing
inside of her... beats with cosmic energy. Is it a child?
Is it human? Is it a god? Describe this abomination in
a tone that is similar to Lovecraft but also respects
the integrity of the Arby's dining experience"
In a quiet corner of an Arby's, where the warm glow of neon signs barely reached, sat Sally Sausage. She had come to redeem her coupon, a tribute to the fallen god, John Meatlover—a discount on a meal that tasted like an elegy. Yet, as she chewed, she felt a stirring within her, a sensation she had never felt before.
It was as if something had awoken inside her, something ancient, something unfathomable. No ordinary child could make its presence felt with such cosmic malevolence. No, this was something else—something that twisted the very laws of biology and spirituality, a monstrous union of divine meaty energy and earthly flesh. It was as though the dead eyes of abyssal sea creatures stared out from her womb, and yet, those eyes were imbued with the very essence of divine barbecued meats.
The Arby's around her seemed to sense this abomination as well. The fluorescent lights flickered as if in dread, and the deep fryers bubbled in an agitated manner. Customers were laughing, eating, unaware of the cataclysmic potential gestating in this quiet corner. But the staff, those minimum-wage seers who can sometimes feel the strange tides of the fast-food universe, looked uneasy. Their hands trembled as they assembled sandwiches and filled cups of soda, sensing an eldritch disruption in the fabric of their greasy reality.
Sally could feel the entity within her stretch and coil, as though tasting the dimensions of its prison. With each heartbeat, a pulse of cosmic energy radiated from her, warping the air, making the meats in the nearby counter quiver as if they sensed their future king—or devourer.
Yet, despite the otherworldly horror of it, this abomination was still her child—a monstrous offspring perhaps, but hers. It would be born into a world that would neither understand nor accept it. It would be a being of inconceivable power, and yet, it would cry, feed, and sleep like any infant. What would it become? A god? A monster? The savior or destroyer of worlds?
As Sally took another bite of her brisket sandwich, she knew that the universe had tilted on its axis, had been forever altered, and in the most inexplicably terrifying way, it had happened within the walls of an Arby's. She also knew that she would protect this paradox, this unspeakable union of meat and darkness, with all the ferocity and love that only a mother possessed.
She left the Arby's, coupon discarded, uneaten curly fries growing cold on the tray. Sally felt the thing inside her stir again, as if acknowledging its mother. With grim determination, she stepped into the unknowable future, an eldritch melody of dread and maternal love humming in her ears.
"yesssssss! Please continue that story of Sally Sausage and the
beefy unborn child of John Meatlover, and that child's birth,
once again keeping a Lovecraftian tone and how she is torn
between fiercely protecting her divine meat child, defeating
it in order to save mankind from the possible destruction it could cause,
or maybe just trying one of those new Angus Beef burgers"
In the days that followed, Sally Sausage became increasingly attuned to the unfathomable energies churning within her. She moved with a newfound gravitas, her actions dictated not just by her own will, but by the cosmic forces incubating inside her. Even the simplest choices—a sip of water, a turn down an unfamiliar street—seemed fraught with existential implications.
Whispers reached her ears, cryptic snippets of butcher's lore and celestial equations, transmitted to her by the meaty entity inside her. She found herself visiting butcheries and meat markets, drawn to them as if by a magnetic pull. And yet, her cravings were selective, rejecting conventional choices for esoteric cuts and celestial marbling that seemed to mirror constellations in their intricate patterns of fat and flesh.
When the contractions began, they did not merely grip her body; they seemed to reverberate through the cosmos itself. Sally found herself at the threshold of an Arby’s once more, this time not for sustenance, but as a conduit—a birth canal for the entity poised to enter our realm.
The atmosphere was electric with tension. Fryers popped in aggressive staccatos, as if protesting the coming abomination. The staff were more than uneasy now; they were gripped by an inexplicable terror, as if they subconsciously understood that they were extras in a drama whose stakes transcended human comprehension.
Finally, as the clock's hands met in unholy union at midnight, the entity emerged. The birth was unlike any other, an event that bent the very laws of physics. From between realms it came, ushered into existence amidst screams and moans that echoed not just in the Arby’s, but through the fragile veil of reality itself.
The child—if it could be called that—was both beautiful and monstrous, a swirling mass of celestial meat and unfathomable darkness. Its cries were a discordant symphony of human infant wails and cosmic reverberations that shook the foundations of the Earth.
Sally looked down at the bundle in her arms. Every maternal instinct in her screamed to protect it, to nurture it, yet another, more rational part of her understood the existential threat it posed. It was a being of incomprehensible power, a paradoxical amalgamation of divine and demonic, meat and anti-meat.
At that moment, a voice broke through her internal conflict. "Try our new Angus Beef burgers, now available for a limited time!"
The absurdity of the juxtaposition struck her. Here she was, grappling with a choice that could impact the cosmos, and yet life—mundane, absurd, wonderful life—went on. It seemed ludicrous, but in that instant, Sally realized that even gods and monsters were bound by the quirks and contradictions of existence.
She looked down at her child, her abomination, her miracle, and made her decision. She would raise it, protect it, but also teach it about the balance of things. It would learn to navigate its immense power responsibly, to be a creature not just of meat and darkness, but of wisdom and light. Perhaps, it would even come to enjoy the simpler pleasures, like a well-cooked Angus Beef burger.
As Sally left the Arby's, her monstrous infant cradled in her arms, she knew that the path ahead was fraught with peril and uncertainty. But for now, for this brief moment, mother and child were united, two souls bound by the most complex and simplest thing of all—love. And perhaps, just perhaps, that love could save them—and the world.
"so does Sally nurse this child normally? or does she have to
just bottle-feed it with meatshakes? how is her vagina doing
after all of this. that must have been a stressful childbirth.
also let's check in on the Arby's manager who witnessed all of
this. maybe he is a secret agent of some sort, assigned to keep
tabs on this unholy event... and maybe stop it"
Sally quickly discovered that conventional methods of nurturing would not suffice for her extraordinary offspring. Its hunger was insatiable and decidedly specific—milk was outright rejected in favor of what could only be described as "meatshakes," a gruesome blend of various cuts, from the prosaic to the forbidden. Her refrigerator soon resembled an arcane meat library, with shelves dedicated to terrains and textures so complex they could rival the diversity of the Amazon Rainforest.
Physically, Sally was in a state of mild shock. Her body had served as the gateway for something between a deity and an abomination, and the toll was immense. Miraculously, though, she found herself healing at an accelerated rate—another dark gift from her inhuman child, perhaps. Her obstetrician, baffled by her almost supernatural rate of recovery, decided not to inquire too deeply, attributing it to "remarkable resilience" and leaving it at that. As for the more intimate aspects of her post-childbirth condition, let's just say that certain aspects of human anatomy seemed quaintly irrelevant given the cosmic implications of her situation.
Meanwhile, at that very Arby's where dimensions had frayed and reality had wavered, the manager, Davis Milton, stood in his cramped office reviewing the security footage from that fateful night. Officially, Davis was an ordinary fast-food manager; unofficially, he was an operative of the "Carnal Order," a secret society dedicated to monitoring the thin line between the Meat Dimension and our own. His mission was to observe and, if necessary, intervene in the event of a "meaty incursion."
Davis had been prepared for many things. He had been trained in the arcane arts of meatomancy, the hidden lore that wove the fabric of our universe with the threads of other, meatier realms. What he had not been prepared for was the unholy birth that had unfolded before his eyes.
As he watched Sally Sausage leave the Arby's with the newborn entity, he was torn between his duty and his humanity. The protocols dictated immediate eradication of any meaty entities that posed a threat to the fabric of reality, but as he looked into the eyes of the child—eyes that seemed to contain entire galaxies of both light and darkness—he hesitated.
For now, Davis Milton would bide his time, watch Sally and her child, and grapple with a moral quandary that transcended human understanding. Was this child the harbinger of the apocalypse or the herald of a new, meatier dawn? Only time would tell, and until then, he would have to live in the ambiguity, flipping burgers by day and delving into forbidden meat lore by night.
Sally, oblivious to the watchful eyes trained on her, continued her life, or what semblance of life she could maintain given her new responsibilities. The enormity of her decision weighed on her each day, yet every time her child looked into her eyes and uttered cosmic gurgles that might have been laughter, she felt a conviction that she had made the right choice. But as she would soon discover, choices have consequences, and even love has its limits when stretched across the fabric of multiple dimensions.
"oh yessssssss let's check in on everybody 18 years
later. that horriffic meaty child entity is now an
accomplished slayer of all things human and
otherwise... and a high school senior who's excited
because tonight is PROM NIGHT! he looks awkward,
yet cute, in his meat tuxedo. his proud mother
Sally looks on, her mind teetering on the edge of
insanity due to psychic warfare. this is the moment
when Davis Milton makes his move. but the results
are shocking. can we also please involve an Arby's
somehow? continue with the Lovecraft tone."
Eighteen years had elapsed since that fateful night, a night when dimensions had wavered and an abomination—or perhaps a new god—had been born. Sally Sausage had aged, but not in the way most humans do. Her body bore the weight of cosmic secrets, her eyes flickered with otherworldly knowledge, and her psyche perpetually skirted the edge of madness. She was a vessel, forever marked by her divine meaty child, now known by the name of Adam.
Adam had grown into an entity of both terror and majesty—his form an unsettling but oddly endearing mixture of teenage awkwardness and cosmic malevolence. His meaty tuxedo was a sartorial wonder that defied both fashion logic and the laws of physics. Its texture seemed to be in perpetual flux, ranging from the suppleness of prime rib to the dense, enigmatic marbling of interstellar meat formations.
Tonight was prom night, a rite of passage for human teenagers, but for Adam, it was something more—a culmination, an apotheosis. As he stood before his mother, adjusting his otherworldly lapels, Sally's heart swelled with a mixture of love, dread, and unfathomable awe. Was she sending her son off to a dance, or was she heralding the end of times? Perhaps both.
This was the moment Davis Milton had been waiting for. For 18 years, he had watched, analyzed, and agonized. The "Carnal Order" had grown restless; the higher-ups demanded action. He had been granted various mystical items from the secret vaults of the Order—a blade forged in the fats of celestial bovines, bullets made from the bones of ancient, extinct predators. Tonight, Davis would confront Adam, armed and ready to end this cosmic aberration once and for all—or so he thought.
Choosing his moment carefully, Davis stepped out from the shadows of an Arby’s located strategically across the street from the high school. This was not just any Arby's; it was a nexus point, a place where the meat dimension ran thin. Adam, ever attuned to the subtleties of his native realm, sensed the shift in energy immediately.
As Davis aimed his weapon, a relic imbued with the power to disintegrate even a god, he met eyes with Sally. In that moment, a wave of psychic energy erupted between them. Thoughts, regrets, unspoken understandings passed in an instant, crystallized in a mother’s desperate scream and a warrior’s faltering resolve.
The shot was never fired. Adam turned toward Davis, his eyes swirling vortexes of cosmic meatiness. With a flick of his wrist, the weapon disintegrated, atoms scattered to the winds of multiple dimensions. Then, turning his gaze back to his mother, Adam spoke.
"Shall we go, Mother? I'd hate to be late for my prom."
Sally, trembling but resolute, nodded. Perhaps humanity was doomed, perhaps not. But in that moment, all that mattered was her son, her monstrous, awe-inspiring son, who was growing up just like any other child—albeit one with the power to rend the fabric of reality itself.
Davis, weaponless and broken, watched as they drove off, the cosmic currents around Adam twisting and writhing in dreadful jubilation. He walked back into the Arby’s, ordered a beef and cheddar combo, and sat down. He had failed in his mission, but had he also succeeded in preserving something far more fragile and important? As he bit into his sandwich, Davis pondered the imponderable, his thoughts as layered and complex as the Arby's menu.
Tonight was prom night. Tonight was the end and the beginning. And in that paradox, in that horrifyingly beautiful contradiction, lay the essence of all existence. The universe, after all, was not just darkness and light, not just meat and veggies; it was a spectrum, a dizzying, maddening array of possibilities. And at one particular point on that spectrum was a teenager in a meat tuxedo, dancing the night away, as stars were born and died in the far reaches of his eyes.
"Describe the prom. The feeling is one of both teenage
elation and meat-themed bodily horror. There is an almost
cosmic feel in addition to normal teenage vibes. After
the prom, Adam and and his prom date are alone in a
secluded area. Their thoughts are feverishly romantic
and the mood is sort of like the feeling you get when
you're about to bite into a delicious Angus Beef Burger
from Arby's except everything is really creepy and heavy.
The physical reality of their love is too much for a
normal human to bear but she has a secret. Make sure
to give her a name and agency. Everything that happens
should be about 200% more violent than is strictly
necessary."
The high school gymnasium had been transformed into a surreal dreamscape, a mixture of conventional prom trappings and otherworldly elements that couldn't be placed. Streamers intermingled with tendrils of meat that hung from the ceiling, pulsing in time with the music. The disco ball at the center was a grotesque but mesmerizing amalgamation of crystal and gristle, reflecting both light and abyss.
Students danced, laughed, and celebrated, their youthful exuberance heightened and distorted by the anomalous presence of Adam. They could sense something was amiss, but the lure of the prom—the teenage celebration of life on the cusp of adulthood—kept them tethered to the illusion of normalcy.
Adam's date for the evening was Elara, a young woman with raven-black hair and eyes that matched the inexplicable depth of his own. She was dressed in a gown that shimmered like the night sky, but what truly captivated Adam was the air of serene confidence that seemed to emanate from her. Throughout the night, they danced and talked, each step and word charged with an intensity that went beyond the mere hormonal surges of adolescence.
Finally, as the clock neared midnight, they found themselves alone in a secluded area near the school, an alcove hidden behind the blooming branches of a gnarled old tree. The tension was palpable, like the electric anticipation that fills the air before a storm—or before biting into a mouth-wateringly juicy Angus Beef Burger from Arby's.
As Adam leaned in to kiss Elara, the very air around them seemed to vibrate with cosmic energy. Their lips met, and the collision was like the merging of two stars—an eruption of elemental forces that transcended understanding. Just as the universe had been born from a point of infinite density, so too did their kiss seem to birth a new, violent reality.
It was too much for any normal human to withstand, but Elara was far from normal. Pulling away, she revealed her secret: "Adam, I am like you—a child born of cosmic dimensions, though not of meat, but of shadow and void. I sensed you long before tonight, and I knew our paths were destined to converge in a violent dance of creation and destruction."
Adam looked at her, his eyes wide with a combination of awe, love, and existential horror. "Then our union... it would not just be the merging of two souls, but a cataclysm that might rip apart the fabric of this world?"
Elara nodded. "Our love is a singularity—a point where all normal rules break down. If we continue, we could either achieve divine transcendence or trigger an apocalypse."
They paused, grappling with the enormity of the decision before them. Finally, Adam spoke. "In a universe infinite in its complexity, perhaps there is room for a love such as ours—a love that defies both human and cosmic understanding. A love that is violently, irrevocably life-changing."
And with that, they kissed again, a cataclysmic merging that left a smoldering crater where the old tree had once stood but left the rest of the world curiously, miraculously intact. They stepped back, hand in hand, both understanding that their love was something that could neither be fully embraced nor completely avoided.
As the first rays of dawn lit up the horizon, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange, Adam and Elara knew that their story was far from over. But for now, they had each other, and in a universe teeming with incomprehensible wonders and unspeakable horrors, that was enough.
The world had survived another night. Somewhere in the distance, an Arby's sign flickered to life, a beacon in a reality that had just narrowly avoided unraveling at its seams.
"Adam and Elara perform a "meat frolic" that seems
playful and sexy but somehow results in the demise of
Sally Sausage in kind of a tragic Oedipus Rex moment.
Davis Milton makes an unholy pact and does something
really violent. Heavy on the meat themes. Also heavy
on the catchphrases we all know from Arby's commercials.
And maintain the dark and heavy Lovecraft vibe.
everybody is teetering on the edge of madness and
meatsweats"
In the days that followed their apocalyptic prom night, Adam and Elara found themselves drawn together in ways that defied the natural order. A powerful carnal connection existed between them, tinged with the meaty essence that was Adam's birthright. They coined it a "meat frolic," a playful but potent ritual that brought them closer in inexplicable, unimaginable ways.
During one such meat frolic, they found themselves in Adam's home, navigating the labyrinthine corridors of lust and flesh. Using cuts of meat from other realms, they built a sanctuary—a cocoon where their love and energies could blend without causing another cosmic disaster.
But as they reached the climax of their frolic, whispering Arby's catchphrases like unholy incantations—"We have the meats," "It's good mood food"—something twisted in the fabric of reality. The meat dimension shook. The borders between the cosmic and the earthly blurred until they were nearly indistinguishable.
Sally Sausage, who had been teetering on the precipice of insanity ever since the birth of her son, felt a jolt of psychic energy that finally pushed her over the edge. Consumed by the dark revelations that flooded her mind, she screamed, a sound that echoed through the halls of her home and into the twisted dimensions beyond.
Adam, sensing the disturbance in his very marrow, broke the meaty embrace with Elara and raced to find his mother. When he arrived, he found Sally collapsed, her eyes wide open but empty, her psyche shattered by the force of her own tragic revelations. A mother destroyed by the son she loved too much, in a moment that echoed the dark twists of Oedipal tragedy.
Meanwhile, Davis Milton, who had been watching from a hidden vantage point—aided by dark rituals that cloaked him from even Adam's keen senses—saw an opportunity. With Sally's fall, a vulnerability had been introduced, a crack in Adam's cosmic armor. Whispers of power filled Davis' mind, promises from entities that thrived on chaos and destruction.
Making a hasty but irreversible pact with these dark forces, Davis stepped out of the shadows. The meats of the world twisted and recoiled as he intoned a spell, imbuing his hands with a monstrous energy that could rend flesh from bone. "It's meatcraft," he muttered to himself, eyes ablaze with madness and fervor.
With a gesture as violent as it was precise, Davis unleashed his newfound power. The air was filled with a sickening, meaty crunch. Before Adam could react, before he could understand what had just transpired, Davis was gone, leaving behind only the ruinous aftereffects of his violent spell. The reality around them seemed to sag, as if wounded, barely holding itself together.
Adam returned to Elara, both devastated by his mother's demise and unsettled by the invisible violence that had just been inflicted upon his world. They held each other, the weight of their love and their transgressions pressing down on them like a butcher's cleaver.
"We have the meats," Adam whispered, the catchphrase now a lament, a eulogy, a dirge.
Elara looked at him, her eyes pools of infinite sorrow and unquenchable desire. "Yes," she said, her voice tinged with melancholy and resignation. "And perhaps, in the end, the meats also have us."
As they stood together, contemplating the dread-filled labyrinth that was their love, their future, and the very fabric of the cosmos, the smell of roast beef and freshly baked buns wafted in through the window. Somewhere out there, an Arby's was opening for the day, unaware of the madness that had just unfolded, or the cataclysm that had, for now, been narrowly averted.
"Adam travels with Sally's body to "The One True
Arby's", a sacred and profane place. Here, he
consecrates and bids farewell her body in accordance
with the ancient rituals that also involve Arby's
menu items. He is filled with a terrible awareness
that ultimately, Sally is only meat. And we know
what Arby's does with meat."
Adam's journey to "The One True Arby's" was a pilgrimage through layers of reality, a quest that transcended space and time. It was said to exist at the intersection of all dimensions, a cosmic nexus where the walls between the meat dimension and our own reality were thinnest. A place both sacred and profane, where the cycle of life, death, and rebirth was endlessly enacted through the medium of roast beef and curly fries.
With Sally's lifeless body cradled in his arms, Adam stepped into the shadowy interior of the legendary Arby's. Illuminated only by the faint, greasy glow of the neon sign that read, "We Have The Meats," he approached the counter. Behind it stood a figure swathed in robes of Arby's wrappers, his face an enigmatic mask carved from a slab of marbled meat.
Without a word, the figure gestured towards an altar at the back of the establishment. It was a horrific yet awe-inspiring structure, built from bones and gristle, layered with buns, and anointed with Arby's Sauce and Horsey Sauce in intricate, arcane patterns. Here, it seemed, was the nexus of all meat, the center of Adam's twisted cosmology.
Laying Sally's body on the altar, Adam began the ritual. Words of power, handed down through generations of Meat Priests, poured forth from his lips. Each syllable resonated with the meats that filled the room, imbuing the air with a dreadful vitality.
With solemn reverence, he placed a Beef 'n Cheddar Classic upon her heart, curly fries in her hands, and a Jamocha Shake at her feet. Then, taking a ceremonial blade fashioned from the rib bone of some ancient, mythical beast, he began to chant the final, irrevocable lines of the ritual.
As he spoke, the reality around him quivered, the meats of the altar seeming to come alive, writhing and twisting as if in agony or ecstasy. The words of the ritual echoed in his mind: "Meat to meat, flesh to flesh, from this world to the next."
And then, a terrible realization washed over him: Sally was now part of the eternal cycle, one with the meats of the universe. The woman who had borne him, raised him, and sacrificed her sanity for him was reduced to her most primal essence—meat. And meat was the domain of Arby's, to be cooked, consumed, and transformed. A dread-filled silence filled the room.
With the final word of the ritual, Sally's body shuddered, then seemed to dissolve, her flesh, bones, and being absorbed into the altar, becoming one with the One True Arby's. A burst of cosmic energy filled the room, and for a moment, Adam felt a connection, a maternal warmth that transcended the horror of the moment. Then it was gone, leaving him alone in a universe that suddenly felt emptier, colder.
"Your offering has been accepted," intoned the robed figure behind the counter. "She is one with the meats now. She is both nowhere and everywhere, part of the eternal cycle."
Adam nodded, his heart heavy with a terrible knowledge and a sorrow deeper than the darkest abyss. But he also felt a grim sense of closure, as if he had fulfilled some cosmic destiny, played his part in a drama older and vaster than human comprehension.
Turning to leave, he glanced back one last time at the altar, at the space where his mother had lain just moments before. There was nothing to see now, just an empty expanse of buns and meats, an ordinary fast-food counter in an establishment that was anything but.
And so Adam stepped back into the world, a world filled with equal parts wonder and horror, his soul forever marked by his journey to the One True Arby's. But even as he left, he knew that he would carry the weight of that experience—and the terrible, awesome power of the meats—within him for the rest of his days.