Why One Ought Not Play With Their Food

I poured a bag of skittles into a jar, turned out all the lights in the room excepting the flashlight I had placed underneath said jar, and stared at the delicious rainbow candies within. I then moved the jar about until the skittles formed a mountain and gazed upon this little world under the bright light of its false sun. I imagined myself inside jar. I imagined myself inhabiting that simple world. I imagined while in this place, I climbed the malnutritous mound of skittles. I had looked haggard and hungry during this expedition, comically so when considering the location. I climbed with fervor, deciding the petite me in the jar had long stared at this mountain. It had haunted me, forever looming above, keeping a secret knowledge at it peak. Anywho, as I mentioned before: I climbed until the peak and I were but yards apart. Feet. Inches. I took my final step and stood atop, looking out through the glass of the jar to see me, in my present 5'6'' form, staring down at my petite me's world with a giddy curiosity. My petite me yelled "Atlas!". Both 'me's laughed heartily. I than hastily shut off the flashlight, turned back on the lights I had earlier turned off, and repressed the terribly unpleasant thoughts that arose as I ate little me's scrumptious mountain.