Amundsen raised his arm for a halt, stepped

Amundsen raised his arm for a halt, stepped off the sledge & sat down. He looked at each in turn as the party gathered around. "Let's give up." Hassel said, "but we're only 30 km

from the South pole! And Scott is surely not far behind us! "I can't go on. Not after we ate Snuggles." Hanssen, griped, "I told you not to name the dogs!" But Amundsen just moped

and cried silently. At least we'd survived another few days, I told Amundsen. Finally we decided to hold a memorial for poor old Snuggles. He was a good sled dog - and tasty, too.

That's how my craving started. That fateful trip. Now I look for dogs to eat all the time. The best are the tiny little black ones.

The Craving has never won but I still look for them. I had to learn Dog. Full Dog. that means I had to get my nose in there. It was a hard lesson but I know where every dog I'm not

able to sniff the butt of will end up: 6 feet under, perhaps a shallower grave. The Craving would kill all the dogs, and I could only stop it with a special pheromone from my nose.

So laying a finger aside of one nostril, I shot my special pheromone from the other onto the Craving, which started to whistle and sparkle as it shrunk to nothingness. The dogs

of society howled their outrage for the discourteous gesture I made to whet the Craving. The Craving was the government body that catalogued every foul search on the Interwebs.

And who could stop the Craving? No one, for who could stop your craving? It was as certain as death and taxes. Like the fundamental problem of economics, there it was - cravings...

the national currency of FoodNetwork. They bought these Cravings from their viewers in hotel rooms late at night. They ruled the world, and no one even knew it.