Here it is: my greatest work.
Let this stand as the ultimate expression of my defining trait.

Behold the wreckage of a grand feast. Not a banquet, for that implies a large gathering of people; just a rather amazing meal.
As you can see, there used to be whole turkeys, sandwiches, piles of cranberry sauce, crates of stuffing, grosses of peas, pumpkin and apple and mincemeat pies. There used to be wine and beer and eggnog. There used to be a clean table cloth!
Not any more, though.

I am here and I am proud of what I have accomplished.

This is the magnum opus of my life: a monument to my appetite. Soon to be demolished, but still.

Today I am a man. A gigantic man. And my heart, like the rest of me, is at last appeased.
FULL.

—Mr. Creosote.