…would it take to kill you, and how would our favorite dairy derivative succeed in finishing you off?
I’m not talking about a frozen half-pint being used to bludgeon in your skull, or a melting fifty-gallon drum being used to drown you in. Although those are fascinating topics in their own right, should I feel an urge to start writing mystery novels.
No, I mean if you were reasonably healthy and started eating ice cream, as in LOTS of ice cream, how much would it take to send you off to the cornfield?
Would it be a boring, slow, and prosaic passage as you put on a couple pounds a day, finally getting to the point where slimy Los Angeles television critters were trying to get you on your own reality television show and they had to cut out the wall to get you out of the room when you hit the half-ton mark and had the inevitable congestive heart failure?
Would it be slightly quicker (as in, a year or two rather than a decade or two) as the trans fatty acids clogged your arteries, a gram or two at a time gleaned from the half gallon a day of Cookies & Cream you were shoveling into your face, until some cardiologist screwed up the experiment with a quadruple bypass?
Would all of the sugar send your glucose levels skyrocketing and in just a month or two you would be heavily into advanced Type 2 diabetes leading to “something bad” happening?
Or would it be a matter of death by brain freeze, where either your skull explodes a la David Cronenberg or it gets so bad you start hitting yourself in the face with a ball peen hammer until it stops?
Asking for a friend. Of course.
(DAMN my head hurts! Just a couple more spoonfuls and then I’ll stop, I swear!)