Eat my Shorts

Eat my shorts! Eat them! Chew the cotton, it hasn't been washed! Can you taste my holiness? My shorts contain wonders, even when I'm not wearing them. They are a being unto themselves, glorious in khaki, zippered, buttoned and self-aware.

Eat them now! You salivate and deny yourself, why? My shorts desire to be eaten, masticated into pulp, digested, shat out and be made into shorts again.

Or perhaps my shorts should devour you?