It had been two months since that fateful visit to the fair.
Templeton continued to visit Wilbur every day at mealtime for his share of the food.
At first, Wilbur had been content to let the rat eat first. It had been the deal – Templeton saves Charlotte’s children, he gets first dibs. Unfortunately, Templeton’s insatiable hunger often left the poor pig with not much to eat. The rat rarely ate more than half of the slops, but that still wasn’t much for poor Wilbur, who was much bigger than Templeton and thus needed more than him. But Templeton was a heavy eater, and eating in vast quantities was a delight for him. Convincing him to eat less was easier said than done.
The other animals noticed that while Templeton was steadily gaining weight, Wilbur was starting to lose weight. This caused some worry amongst them. Even if the Zuckermans didn’t kill Wilbur, he’d probably still die of starvation in a few months. Plus, he’d hardly survive the harsh winter ahead if he didn’t have more meat on his bones.
Templeton didn’t seem to care. He just wanted food. Lots of food. Enough food to fill him until he simply couldn’t anymore.
The animals watched him one day as he crawled out from his hidey-hole under the trough. The rat was getting a little too big to squeeze through it. He’d tried making it bigger, but the structural integrity of the ground under it made him worry it’d collapse and ruin his home. So he was squeezing himself through every day.
Everyone watched in judgmental disgust as he dove into the trough and gobbled up whatever he could. He moaned with pleasure as he did so, enjoying every last bite. It was fifteen minutes before he was done, and he heaved himself up and out of the trough, licking the slop off his fur. His belly was swollen, sloshing with his latest meal, and he patted it proudly.
Wilbur peered into the trough. Still half left, but that wasn’t much to satisfy him. He sighed sadly and tucked in.
The other animals watched Templeton settle in against a fencepost to digest for a while. The fat rat was getting fatter, and he was pleased as punch about it. They’d all been pondering what to do about him. If he ate Wilbur out of house and home, all of Charlotte’s hard work would be in vain. They’d discussed it while he slept, and they’d made a plan.
The goose fluttered down next to the engorged rodent and tutted. “Goodness-oodness me,” she murmured. “Looks like you enjoyed your latest conquest.”
Templeton opened a sleepy eye. He was annoyed at being awoken, but he couldn’t help but smirk. “Indeed,” he said, licking his lips. “You don’t know the orgasmic pleasure that comes from stuffing oneself ‘til utter satiation.” He patted his belly with fondness, and it jiggled like jelly.
The goose smirked back. “A pity the fair has come and gone until next year. It’ll be a long wait before you enjoy its bounties again…”
“Don’t remind me,” the rat snarled. “I hate having to leave food uneaten for Wilbur. I don’t get to enjoy it to its fullest extent.”
The goose tried to hide the look of surprise. The rat had been holding back all this time? “So you’re saying-aying-aying you could eat more in one sitting?”
“But of course. Sadly, I have to wait many months until I can enjoy such a repast again…”
The goose decided it was time to unleash the plan.
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