Homer Simpson's stomach gurgled loudly as he sat on the couch, his belly sloshing with the remnants of last night's donuts and beer. Across the street, he spotted his annoying neighbor Ned Flanders mowing his immaculately manicured lawn.
"Stupid perfect Flanders," Homer grumbled. "I bet he's never had a donut in his life."
Marge, Homer's wife, entered the room and saw him staring intently at Ned. "What are you looking at, Homer?" she asked.
"Nothing, Marge," Homer replied, not taking his eyes off Ned. "Just admiring Flanders' lawn. Looks like he spends hours on that thing."
Marge sighed. "You know, Homer, it wouldn't kill you to be a little more like Ned. He's always so kind and hardworking."
Homer scoffed. "Kind? Hardworking? Where's the fun in that? I'd rather eat a whole box of donuts than spend my Saturday mowing the lawn."
As if on cue, Ned looked up and waved at Homer. "Morning, neighbor!" he called out cheerfully. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
Homer waved back half-heartedly. "Yeah, great day," he muttered. "A perfect day to digest a snack."
Suddenly, a crazy idea popped into Homer's head. He turned to Marge with a wild look in his eye. "Marge, I've got a great idea. Let's invite Flanders over for dinner!"
Marge was taken aback. "Homer, are you sure? You know how much you dislike Ned."
"I know, I know," Homer said, rubbing his hands together. "But I've got a plan. We'll invite him over, and then... then I'll eat him!"
Marge's eyes widened in shock. "Homer, you can't be serious! You can't just eat our neighbor!"
Homer grinned. "Why not? He's always so annoying, with his perfect lawn and his stupid 'Okily-dokily's. I bet he'd taste like a sweet, succulent donut."
Marge shook her head. "Homer, this is insane. We can't do this."
But Homer was undeterred. He marched over to the phone and dialed Ned's number. "Hey Ned, it's Homer. Marge and I were wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight?"
Ned's voice came through the receiver, sounding as cheerful as ever. "Why, that's mighty kind of you, Homer! I'd love to come over. What time should I be there?"
"How about 7 o'clock?" Homer suggested, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice.
"Perfect! I'll see you then. And thanks again, neighbor!"
Homer hung up the phone and turned to Marge with a triumphant grin. "It's all set. Flanders will be here at 7, and then... then I'll finally get my revenge."
Marge looked at him with a mixture of horror and disgust. "Homer, please don't do this. It's wrong on so many levels."
But Homer was too far gone to listen. He spent the rest of the day preparing for his meal, sharpening his teeth and stretching his stomach.
At 7 o'clock sharp, the doorbell rang. Homer opened the door to find Ned standing there, a plate of his famous three-alarm chili in hand. "Here you go, neighbor!" Ned said, handing Homer the plate. "I hope you enjoy it!"
Homer took the plate and ushered Ned inside. Marge greeted him with a strained smile. "Hi Ned, make yourself at home."
As they sat down to eat, Homer couldn't take his eyes off Ned. He imagined how good the other man would taste, all sweet and succulent. He licked his lips in anticipation.
Finally, he couldn't wait any longer. "Ned," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I've got a confession to make. I didn't invite you over for dinner... I invited you over to eat you."
Ned looked at him in confusion. "Eat me? Homer, what are you talking about?"
Homer stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "I'm talking about this, Flanders," he said, opening his mouth wide. His jaw unhinged and his throat stretched, forming a gaping maw.
Ned's eyes went wide with terror as he realized what was about to happen. He tried to run, but Homer was too fast. He grabbed the other man and shoved him headfirst into his waiting mouth.
Marge screamed as she watched her husband swallow their neighbor whole. Ned's legs kicked and flailed as he was dragged down Homer's gullet, his screams muffled by the thick flesh.
Homer gulped and gulped, his neck bulging obscenely as Ned slid down into his stomach. He could feel the other man struggling inside him, his fists and feet pounding against his stomach walls.
But it was no use. Homer's stomach was too strong, too powerful. It squeezed and churned, breaking Ned down into smaller and smaller pieces.
Homer let out a loud belch as he felt Ned's body start to dissolve. He could feel the other man's flesh melting away, his bones grinding into paste.
Marge watched in horror as her husband digested their neighbor. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. How could Homer do something so monstrous?
But Homer was in heaven. He had never felt so full, so satisfied. Ned's body was like the best meal he had ever had, sweet and savory and utterly delicious.
As the hours passed, Ned's struggles grew weaker and weaker. Finally, with a last few twitches, he went still. Homer's stomach gurgled contentedly as it finished its work, breaking Ned down into nothing more than a pile of nutrients.
Homer let out a loud sigh of satisfaction. He had done it. He had eaten Ned Flanders, and it had been the best thing he had ever tasted.
Marge stared at him, her face a mask of revulsion. "Homer," she said, her voice shaking. "How could you do that? How could you eat another human being?"
Homer shrugged, unconcerned. "He was just so annoying, Marge. And he tasted so good. I couldn't resist."
Marge shook her head. "I don't know if I can ever look at you the same way again, Homer. You're a monster."
Homer felt a pang of regret. He hadn't meant to hurt Marge, but he couldn't help himself. The desire to eat Ned had been too strong, too overwhelming.
He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away. "Just leave me alone, Homer," she said, tears in her eyes. "I need some time to think."
Homer nodded, feeling a heaviness in his chest. He had done a terrible thing, and now he was going to have to live with the consequences.