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M. Bison's Fat Tuesday
Fat Tuesday. Mardi Gras. Pancake Day. Whatever one calls it, it's a time for celebration in many European circles. Strangely, it was also widely celebrated even among those in Shadaloo…
The night before, Fang had visited his master to ask to have the day off on that eventful Tuesday. "Normally I wouldn't ask for such a thing except on Christmas, but I have plans that day. Balrog is going out to box and gamble, Vega's doing who-knows-what tomorrow, and even I have plans for the holiday." Bison said nothing as he stared out the window into the night sky… "Master Bison?" He looked back at Fang and said simply to him "Do as you wish. I care little about Mardi Gras and the flamboyance of it all…"
The next morning arrived, and the dictator found himself walking the streets of Shadaloo. Everyone was wrapped up in the festival, and many of the soldiers were dancing and laughing in one of their few days out of uniform… Those metal shoulder guards had the tendency to get heavy, so it was a welcome change of pace!
Bison found himself a bit peckish after a while, and it interrupted his train of thought from… What was it he was thinking about again? It didn't matter. He found himself looking at a sign on a pastry shop: Paczkis, all you can eat! It was a little known fact, but Paczkis were one of his favorite treats. That said, he could rarely eat them because he was so busy maintaining his image and plotting to take over the world…
As he entered the pastry shop, the room fell silent. Was he dissatisfied with them? Was he here to put a stop to any fun in this place and make them serve practical provisions like bread and other such things? M. Bison walked up to the counter and said simply: Paczkis. All I can eat.
With a short look of surprise before regaining his composure, the soldier in charge saluted his master, then nodded before handing him a box of the holiday pastries. Bison held one, admiring the aroma. Then he ate it in three bites. His eyes lit up for a moment, and he felt good. He ate the other five in the box before simply replying "More Paczkis, if you please…"
The soldier didn't think twice and asked the chefs to pick up the pace. He could tell Master Bison would be here for a while… And he was around for a good while indeed. It was 11 A.M., and M. Bison was now devouring the pastries like there was no tomorrow! He ate half a dozen boxes before he had to adjust his belt… his belly, now bloated with sugary, fatty Paczkis, was cutting into it, and it wouldn't do for it to break here of all places.
It was past noon when the soldier in charge decided to say something. "Er, Master Bison, sir?" "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?!", Bison responded in a bit of agitation… "I understand you enjoy the Paczkis, but if you keep eating them like this there won't be enough left for the other-" But M. Bison was not to be distributed. "I'll see to it that you can make some more later. But I wish to make good on the fact that you'll serve me ALL the Paczkis I can eat." "I understand, sir, but aren't you worried about your figure? Or about getting a stomach ache?" said the soldier. One stern look from his leader, and the soldier already had his answer…
Bison said nothing and decided to keep eating them. One way or another, he would eat them ALL. In the mid-afternoon, the dictator felt his coat become a tad tight. He decided to make room for the incredible feast of his favorite treats by opening it to free his widening middle from its constraints. His belly was taut and firm, but he still wanted more… "More Paczkis! And this time, I'd like raspberry and custard." The soldier was amazed by how much the dictator could eat, but he didn't dare try and stop him. If he was kind enough to pay him and his fellow soldiers enough to live by and provide them all with free food and lodging, the least he could do was to serve his master well.
Master Bison's binging went on well into the evening. The feast continued on, the chest portion of Bison's coat slightly stained with raspberry filling, custard, and chocolate. Crumbs and frosting had at this point found their way onto his lips and chin, but there was nothing a handkerchief couldn't fix! That day he had eaten 100 boxes filled with 6 Paczkis each. 600 Paczkis, all inside his stomach. And he still wanted more!
His bloated belly was definitely an impressive sight… it was definitely swollen with all the holiday pastries he had eaten. He looked content to be eating all these sweet treats, and he was happy to be eating them all while he had the chance. It wasn't flamboyant. It wasn't extravagant. It was just right for him. But the soldiers and the chef were working at Mach speed to feed their master. At this point they were serving them on literal silver platters! And yet, M. Bison never faltered. He just leaned back and felt his gut grow, enjoying the feeling as it was getting full and taut with delicious food…
Eventually, the feast came to an abrupt end… After having eaten 124 boxes of the sweet pastries, the soldier in charge of the pastry shop had to deliver the bad news. "Er, bad news Master Bison."
"Hmm, what is it, soldier? Speak up."
"We're all out. You've eaten them all"
"Pardon?"
"No more Paczkis…"
At this, Bison sat up, alert. "You mean to tell me that there's none of them left?" The soldier looked at his master nervously, not wanting to displease him. He chose his words carefully, then said "I'm sorry Master Bison, but I do believe you've eaten them all. We're completely out of ingredients to make more, and there's only one box of them left." M. Bison looked at the soldier and commanded him. "Give it to me. I won't leave until I've eaten that last box as well."
That Tuesday, in a rather rare case of public gluttony, M. Bison was able to complete decimate the bakery of their holiday treats. He didn't do this for any real reasons of punishment or reward. He wasn't here for any publicity campaign or the like. It was just the matter that he really enjoyed Paczkis! It was so rare for him to ever have the chance to eat them, and this year he wanted to eat many times his fill.
With the last box in hand, his stomach was achingly full. But he would finish it. If there was one thing he hated more than insubordinate subordinates, it was food that wasn't fresh. Or worse, the thought of wasting food. He rubbed his stomach as he ate five of the six remaining Paczkis… then he rose out of his seat. The dictator looked at the soldier in charge and told him outright that he deserved a raise, prehaps even the chance to be an official pastry chef of his personal service of cooks.
Then, slowly he turned around. He started to savor the final one of the sweet treats. Empty box and Paczki in hand, he began to leave and decided to head for home. His uniform was a bit stained, but he would attend to that when he returned home. His belly was round, taut and FULL. Full of delicious Paczkis, a total of 750 of them. 125 half dozen boxes, and they were all inside his heavily bloated stomach…
When asked about that fateful day many years later by the now promoted head pastry chef, M. Bison had this to say:
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"The very day that I ate the supply of an entire pastry shop on a whim may have been the most important day of your lives…"
