Chewing

The teeth were chewing too fast. Somebody ought to slow them down. They all suspected the tongue wasn’t helping. The thin lips cared less and let everyone else do all the work. When the fork entered the mouth, which by the way, opened wide each time a new load was delivered, it was instantly mulled over by the greedy teeth. Then the tongue, now on a roll, swirled and caressed each tooth as if rewarding the speed chewing. They were most definitely in cahoots. A synchronized team, performing an Olympic sport, that has endured many long years of specialized training. The brain which was obviously asleep during all of this, did  finally awake. It then sounded the alarm that the last forkful was being delivered. Panic set in. The lips parted slowly, the tongue refused to let the load pass through, and the teeth just halted, clenching the fork. A realization came at once to all involved. This was it. The last bite. Nobody knew when the next shipment was due. This one had to be savored. Enjoyed. Far below, the stomach put down its guard and relaxed. The lungs let out a long deep sigh of breath by way of the nose. At last, the nostrils were allowed to capture the earthy aroma, while the tongue delightfully swirled about the creamy texture with the little soft chunks. Without even asking, the teeth proudly focused on grinding and mashing the little bumps and chunks into an even smoother texture; the envy of any expensive Kitchen Aid, white or designer red. The throat thankful for this bipartisan cooperation gladly accepted this final offering. The ears glowed red as the final swallow of the buttery mashed potatoes started its journey to the center of it all. At last, the face wore a smile that decorated the room. It was all up to the intestines now.