Marc Gasol 18 Points/3 Assists Full Highlights (2/11/2014)

Marc Gasol sat restlessly in his living room, staring at his TV but not really watching. Instead, he listened closely to the sounds that his microwave was making in the adjacent kitchen. If he listened closely and tilted his head in just the right direction, he swore he could hear the sound of cheese bubbling.

Then, the timer ran down to 0:00, and a loud beep emitted from the cooking device. Abandoning all pretense of calm, Gasol hopped off of his couch and ran like a child to the microwave. Skidding to a stop, he pressed his face against the clear plastic window, gazing lustily at the delicious sustenance within.

The instructions on the box said to let them stand for one minute. After thirty seconds, Marc couldn’t handle it anymore, and he nearly ripped the door off its hinges in order to retrieve his carefully prepared food.

Letting the smell wash over him, he closed his eyes and smiled. It was a nostalgic smell, carrying not just the odor of cheese and pepperoni, but also of the happy post-practice snacking sessions of his youth. It was a smell that never could be unpleasant, never be tiresome, never be anything but absolutely compelling and tantalizing.

The smell of Bagel Bites.

Just thinking about popping one into his mouth sent shivers down Marc’s spine. But he maintained control as he arranged all forty of them carefully, respectfully, on a tray. It had to be done right, or it would feel wrong.

Bringing the tray back into his living room, he set it on the coffee table. Now, for the final, finishing touch, he reached behind his entertainment center to retrieve a hidden DVD case. Blowing the dust off, he handled it with reverence as he read the title: Rocko’s Modern Life Season 3.

Inserting the DVD into his player and pushing play, he flopped back into the soft caress of his couch and brought his mountain of Bagel Bites towards him. As Rocko’s absurd exploits played on the 50 inches of plasma in front of him, Marc grabbed the first bagel and held it up to his face. He was already shirtless in preparation for the next step.

Grabbing a single, tiny nugget of pepperoni-flavored meat topping, he gently lowered it into his belly button, as he had first done all those years ago. The sensation of the faux-pepperoni entering his most private place unleashed within him a glorious, orgasmic wave all across his body. Still reeling from the rush of pleasure, he dropped the still-steaming Bagel Bite wholly into his mouth and let the salty, starchy foodstuff molest every part of his tongue.

The beast within him awakened. The heap of food quickly diminished to miniscule proportions as Bagel Bite after Bagel Bite was frenziedly stuffed into Marc’s insatiable mouth. Before even the first episode of Rocko’s Modern Life had run its course, all that was left of the family-size box of Bagel Bites was crumbs in between the cushions and splotches of tomato sauce in Marc’s chest hair.

Sated, Marc fell asleep right where he sat, and in his slumber, he dreamt not of basketball or women. No, he dreamt of dancing, bite-sized bagels, bagels clamoring to be eaten, begging to perish in the roiling acids of Marc’s stomach. He would not deny them.

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