Porter's girth caused the bench to buckle, creaking in desperate protest. "Sweet beau," came whispered words carried on snack-laden breaths. "A throne befitting my queen. Care to join your loving king?" A globule of pus trickled down his bulbous midriff, babbling gently like a forest brook in the ides of spring. Musty pheromones, complimented by lingering traces of cheddar and pork, filled the air and beckoned his beloved toward him.