In the dim glow of a tiny, flickering television set propped up on a stack of cinderblocks, a group of malnourished children in an impoverished village in Africa gathered. The screen displayed a scene so surreal it seemed almost like a dream—or a nightmare.
On the screen, Link, the legendary hero of Hyrule, now bloated and sweaty, sat in a garish fast-food restaurant adorned with golden arches. His green tunic had been stretched to its limits, the fabric now clinging to his rotund frame. Grease glistened on his cheeks, and crumbs of breaded chicken clung stubbornly to his wiry blonde hair.
The children watched in silence, their hollow eyes widening as Link leaned forward to attack his tenth Double Big Mac with Extra Cheese. His movements were primal—no fork, no knife, just hands and teeth in a symphony of relentless consumption. A river of soda flowed down his chin as he guzzled his fourth extra-large drink, a concoction so sugary it seemed to glow faintly in the dark restaurant.
Every so often, Link would pause to burp loudly, pat his stomach, and mutter something incomprehensible about needing more energy to "rescue the princess." Behind him, a digital menu rotated, showcasing calorie counts in numbers so high they seemed almost comical.
A younger child in the crowd leaned toward the screen, his voice a whisper:
"Is that... the hero who saves the world?"
An older child, barely a teenager, shook his head solemnly.
"No, that's the hero who *eats* the world."
One brave boy clutched his empty stomach and muttered, "Maybe if he eats enough, he'll save us next."
As Link finished his meal with a triumphant sigh, he slumped back in his chair, clutching a half-eaten apple pie in one hand. The scene faded to black, replaced by an overly cheerful advertisement for a "Limited-Time *Hyrule Feast Box!*" complete with a toy Master Sword that doubled as a spork.
The children sat in silence for a moment longer before the eldest among them switched off the TV. He turned to the others, a spark of determination in his eyes.
"Let’s go find some food. If we can’t be saved, we’ll save ourselves."
And so, the unlikely sight of malnourished children setting out to create their own destiny became a reality—leaving the image of the bloated hero behind, an emblem of excess in a world crying out for balance.
@Fat Link
On the screen, Link, the legendary hero of Hyrule, now bloated and sweaty, sat in a garish fast-food restaurant adorned with golden arches. His green tunic had been stretched to its limits, the fabric now clinging to his rotund frame. Grease glistened on his cheeks, and crumbs of breaded chicken clung stubbornly to his wiry blonde hair.
The children watched in silence, their hollow eyes widening as Link leaned forward to attack his tenth Double Big Mac with Extra Cheese. His movements were primal—no fork, no knife, just hands and teeth in a symphony of relentless consumption. A river of soda flowed down his chin as he guzzled his fourth extra-large drink, a concoction so sugary it seemed to glow faintly in the dark restaurant.
Every so often, Link would pause to burp loudly, pat his stomach, and mutter something incomprehensible about needing more energy to "rescue the princess." Behind him, a digital menu rotated, showcasing calorie counts in numbers so high they seemed almost comical.
A younger child in the crowd leaned toward the screen, his voice a whisper:
"Is that... the hero who saves the world?"
An older child, barely a teenager, shook his head solemnly.
"No, that's the hero who *eats* the world."
One brave boy clutched his empty stomach and muttered, "Maybe if he eats enough, he'll save us next."
As Link finished his meal with a triumphant sigh, he slumped back in his chair, clutching a half-eaten apple pie in one hand. The scene faded to black, replaced by an overly cheerful advertisement for a "Limited-Time *Hyrule Feast Box!*" complete with a toy Master Sword that doubled as a spork.
The children sat in silence for a moment longer before the eldest among them switched off the TV. He turned to the others, a spark of determination in his eyes.
"Let’s go find some food. If we can’t be saved, we’ll save ourselves."
And so, the unlikely sight of malnourished children setting out to create their own destiny became a reality—leaving the image of the bloated hero behind, an emblem of excess in a world crying out for balance.
@Fat Link
