The result of my experiment with loads and loads of sugar.

Once upon a time there was a little girl named Tabitha who had warts sprouting from her knees and elbows. This meant that she almost never wore appropriately summery apparel. Poor Tabby. She spent the summer months wearing long sleeves and long pants and sweating her proverbial balls off. One day a crusty old man approached her and told her that he could make all of her wildest dreams come true. Well, Tabby had read James and the Giant Peach about thirty-eight thousand times and knew that crusty old men who make wild promises are the absolute height of trustworthiness, so she followed him into a dark alley.

The crusty old man, Tabby was shattered to discover, was actually a crusty old woman, and, having read James and the Giant Peach thirty-eight thousand times, Tabby knew that crusty old women were nowhere near the height of trustworthiness. So the sweet, young, warty child proceeded to brain the old woman with a brick. And, for good measure, she spent the rest of the afternoon hunting down stray cats and braining them with the same brick, because you just never know.

Tabby now lives in a very clean, very quiet little house... some might call it a hospital, but, whatever... on top of a very high hill. Her room is a very pretty shade of pure white and her one window overlooks a lovely patch of garden that is actually a driveway. Tabby is bright and active and, being very goal-oriented, she hopes to have eaten her entire mattress by her fifteenth birthday, which was six and a half years ago. She has a pet waffle.

The end.