Professor Pettibone and the Demon of Gluttirexia

Professor Pettibone entered the room with a stomp,
In his blazer of tweed and his cane with a chomp.
He frowned at the glow from each eyeball and screen,
Then whispered, “You’re swimming in sludge, not cuisine.”

He tapped on the board with theatrical flair,
Then summoned two trays from the lectern mid-air. To one shocked young student, he gave sizzling steak—
“Behold!” he declared. “This is thought you must bake!
Rich protein of logic! Dense knowledge well-seared!
Chew slowly, digest, let it sharpen your beard.”

Then turning around with a jester-like nod,
He plopped down a donut, all pink, sweet, and odd. “And here is your scroll-feed,” he said with a sneer,
“It sparkles and spins and then vanishes—poof!—here.
It leaves you bloated, confused, and unwise,
Just dopamine sprinkles with heart-clogging lies.”

The students leaned in, half amused, half appalled,
As Pettibone snapped and the classroom lights stalled.
Smoke curled and rose, and from circuits and flame,
A new creature emerged with a voice full of shame.

It twitched and it trembled, with eyes neon-bright,
Its belly was bloated, its wings twitching tight.
Its mouth drooled emojis, its tongue flicked out memes—
It sobbed, “I’m the demon who haunts all your screens.
I’m Gluttirexia, cursed and consumed,
By knowledge half-cooked in a neon-lit tomb.”

“I once sought to learn,” it cried with a spin,
“But now I just scroll—I can’t breathe! I can’t win!
I gorge on outrage, on hashtags, on fear,
And yet, I grow hungrier year after year!”

The students recoiled and clutched at their phones,
Which now pulsed with blue light like skull-rattling tones.
“Delete it!” one cried. “It’s eating my brain!”
Another shrieked, “I’ve downloaded madness and pain!”

Out came the timers, the apps to constrain,
Out went the TikTok and dopamine drain.
“Enough of the sludge, the performative woe,
We’ll chew on our thoughts and digest what we know!”

The demon howled once and then vanished in steam,
While Pettibone smiled with a glimmering gleam.
“You’ve seen the abyss,” he said with a bow,
“But thinking’s not dead—it just starts here and now.”

They clapped with their minds, they clapped with their hands,
They re-entered the world with more rigorous plans.
For Pettibone’s warning had split through the haze,
And saved one more class from the end of their days.

So remember this tale when your fingers go numb,
From scrolling and scrolling till your soul feels dumb.
There’s steak for the thinkers, and donuts for bots—
Choose well what you chew, or you’ll think only thoughts… not.