The Ogre and the Meatloaf

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The Ogre came knocking on my door. "Hungry," cried the Ogre. "Want food." I politely invited the Ogre into my house. He looked beastly. His head barely fit through the doorway. He must have weighed 500 pounds. His stomach was three times my size. He had long, dirty finger nails. His toothy grin exposed a tongue that was as long as my kitchen's table. "Ah, Mr. Ogre, how would you like some of my grandma's meatloaf?" "Hungry," shouted the Ogre. "Feed me now!" I took out the entire leftover meatloaf from the fridge. The Ogre grabbed it from my tray and ate the whole thing in five quick bites. "Drink! I want drink!" I gave the Ogre a gallon of milk. The Ogre chugged it down. "Good milk," said the Ogre. "Tummy hurt," said the Ogre. "Meatloaf heavy on Ogre's belly." I gave the Ogre a bottle full of Tums. The Ogre swallowed the bottle whole. He looked very uneasy. "Must go," announced the Ogre. "Need bathroom badly." The Ogre left my home. He never returned again. I'll never forget his visit. Sorry grandma, even the Ogre had problems with your meatloaf.