Chapter 1

When Carly accidentally purchases a nonrefundable dining pass for a full year at a local amusement park, she vows not to let her money go to waste...no matter how big she gets.

“But it was your mistake! Why should I have to pay for it?” Carly demanded, the circular nature of the argument beginning to drive her mad.


“I don’t know, dude,” the shaggy-haired, hazy-eyed teenager answered. He was protected by the glass enclosure of the amusement park's ticket booth, once overkill in Carly's opinion, but now almost insufficient security in the face of the anger the likely stoned attendant was bringing forth within her.


She took a deep breath, attempting to keep her volume low, and repeated herself for what felt like the tenth time.


“I didn't ask for an annual dining package, I asked for a daily one. You selected annual, did you or did you not?


The teen shrugged and Carly pressed her lips together, stifling a scream.


“That’s my bad,” he acquiesced. “But then you clicked accept before you swiped your card, so…”


“I clicked accept because I thought it was the meal plan I asked for. I thought you were doing your job!”


He shrugged again.


“I’m new.”


After a lengthy wait for a manager who informed her that all sales are final and refunds for annual packages aren't a possibility, Carly found herself $2,000 poorer and in no mood to enjoy her nephew's birthday party.


Silver Wave was the largest amusement park in the state, nearly an hour's drive from her house, and filled to the brim with overly sugared, sticky-faced children, tired, sunburnt adults, and the competing aromas of the overwhelming number of fair food carts hawking their deep-fried wares. The noise, the heat, the smells, it was enough to give the typically refined Carly a splitting headache upon entry, but she would do anything for her nephew, hence her appearance and her current predicament.


In an attempt to save a few bucks on chicken fingers she’d paid over a month’s rent for an annual food pass she could never use, and its non-refundable, non-transferable policy meant unless she herself came to the park to eat, the money would go to waste.


She passed the day attempting to mask her mounting frustration, the time she’d spent on the phone with Silver Wave corporate as ineffectual as the time she’d spent speaking to their glazed-over teenage attendant, and ended the day in her car, her phone open to the calculator application.


Carly was by no means a rich woman, which meant that losing $2,000 unexpectedly would put a significant dent in her finances. She didn't just have that money to throw around, although she was surprised to discover what a deal the annual pass really was. Just $2,000 meant unlimited meals at the park for a full day, and the pass also provided a gold-tier membership, meaning she could enter the park at a discounted rate. Compared to what she’d normally spend on food in a year, the park's meal plan was an absolute steal.


Carly was extremely practical, a practicality that shone through in every detail of her well-ordered life, but more than practical, she was petty. The vindictive type, over issues small and large. Her anger at Silver Wave’s corporate policy wouldn't subside. She knew that about herself. Her ability to hold a grudge was second to none, and she still involuntarily clenched her jaw in anger when thinking of the big box store that refused her return because of a slightly crumpled recipe or the restaurant that had charged her for wine the waiter had spilled on her cream sweater. She simply couldn't stand injustices, couldn't stand corporate greed, and more than anything, couldn't stand losing money. Ruining her own budget because a drugged-out shaggy look-alike couldn't be bothered to press the right button?


She set her phone down, biting her lip. The only way the meal plan could be priced that low was if the team who'd done the calculations assumed the buyer would only attend the park a certain amount of times in a year. People drove and flew from all over the country to visit Silver Wave, and that meant recurring visits had to be less common than the pricing on the meal plan anticipated, given that the food in the park was as overpriced as any tourist attraction. A large meal with a side, drink, and dessert was almost $40. The meal plan afforded its user three meals and two snacks a day, meaning that in a day, one could reasonably spend $150 dollars on food alone. The annual pass was good for 364 days from the day of purchase and the park remained open on holidays, all the better to lure in parents with nothing for their children to do, which meant that the only blackout day was Christmas itself.


At $150 a day, Carly would reach her break-even after just 13 visits, an unreasonable amount for any average person but a fraction of what a woman as petty as Carly was willing to subject herself to. She would come to the park every day and spend as much money on food as possible. In a year's time, if she was ambitious, she could spend well over $50,000 in amusement park food, making the initial $2,000 she’d spent look like nothing.


She was going to make those people beg her to accept a refund.


The next day, Carly arrived at the park bright and early, her laptop in tow. As loud and rambunctious as the park’s typical attendees were, there were several quieter cafes and restaurants where she could work remotely during the day, meaning she wouldn't miss one of her overpriced meals. She‘d gone from a commute of a few feet to one of an hour, but again, waking up early and fighting through traffic was nothing when compared to well-earned revenge.


She entered Cowabunga Coffee, a surf-themed breakfast burrito spot that she hoped lacked the enticement of the park's range of sugary early morning options, and stepped into the line, her eyes already scanning the LED-powered digital menu for the dining plan section. The only limitation of the plan surrounded what meals the user could buy but she had been guaranteed that, for the most part, all menu meals would be available.


“It's just the premium options that require an additional fee,” the manager had assured her, the assurance doing little to dissuade her annoyance.


Scanning the menu, Carly was able to quickly discern that the majority of items she would've ordered or prepared for herself on any other day were considered ‘premium options’. The fresh fruit acacia bowl, the steel-cut oats, the green smoothie. All at full price, and it was a price that Carly was less than interested in paying. Coughing up another 16 bucks for a green juice after paying $2,000 for the silver wave meal plan seemed ludicrous, and after a beat of consideration and a glance at her watch that informed her she was due online is 6 minutes, Carly ordered a number 1 combo, a loaded carne asada breakfast burrito with an order of crispy mini hash browns and a blended latte. Not her typical start of day fare in any sense, but perfectly acceptable for a rushed morning. During her lunch break, she’d have time to explore the park a bit more thoroughly and determine which restaurants serve the kind of food she would actually eat on a daily basis.


Her breakfast was carried out to her in short order given she was one of only two parties in the beach accessory adorned cafe, and after the previous days near outlandish portion sizes, she was less than surprised to be served a burrito so large it required a two handed hold on a platter in which every available space was filled with golden brown, crispy wedges of fried potato. The blended latte was also more than Carly had been expecting, both in size and in content. The plastic cup, already slick with condensation from the melting coffee slush within, was the length of Carly's forearm, providing her with more coffee than she would typically consume in a single day, much less a single sitting. The drink was dripping in caramel syrup from every available vantage point in the clear plastic and piled with a dollop of whipped cream so generous it was oozing out of the to-go cup's circular straw hole.


She took a small sip, pleasantly surprised at the obvious quality of the coffee beans underneath the mess of sugary toppings she’d never typically request, and got to work on her first email of the day, already sighing at the necessity to repeat herself to a director who made triple her salary.


Her work morning was as frustrating as it was lengthy, and as she muddled through reports and emails, she steadily put away bite after bite of the shockingly delectable oversized burrito, originally using the plastic fork and knife provided, but eventually switching to a handheld method of attack once the mound of food was diminished enough for her to reasonably grapple. The hashbrowns were as delicious as the meal's main, and she failed to notice just how full she was growing between the two salty, irresistible, and unreasonably large portions.


She licked a blob of excess chipotle ranch from her index finger and pressed send, finally submitting the report due by midday with only a few minutes to spare.


She reached for her plate, intent on crunching down on another battered potato square, and was surprised to find she’d cleared it. The entire comically large portion, save for a few bites of leftover tortilla, had made its way into her stomach over the course of a few hours and she lifted her eyebrows in mild disbelief, wanting to laugh at herself for the unexpected bout of gluttony. Her work was as distracting as it was critical to her team and she often found herself in a trance while at her laptop, hours (or entire meals) passing by without her notice.


She was uncomfortably full from the mountain of food she’d methodically devoured over the course of the morning, and resolved to take a brisk walk around the park with a dual purpose. Get some steps in, and find her target for lunch. A healthier option, a restaurant where she could find something similar to her typical lunchtime fare of tuna salad sandwiches or grilled chicken lettuce wraps.


A brief glance at a park map directly outside of Cowabunga Coffee revealed a tucked-away eatery labeled Herbivore's Hovel and she headed left, certain she’d be able to find a nutritious, plant-based option at a restaurant specifically labeled for herbivores. As full as she was, the meal plan's lunch window was nearing, and in order to make Silver Wave regret their mistake, she needed to buy the most expensive option at every meal. No opportunity to eat would be wasted.


After discovering that Herbivore’s Hovel was actually a prehistoric-themed restaurant that specialized in dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, Carly put away another comically large fast food meal, the pterodactyl combo with fries, a coke, and the most expensive dessert option, a double chocolate shake. Carlry had rolled her eyes while ordering the Megalosaurus Mudslide, but she had to admit that the treat, so thick she could barely suck it through the straw, was one of the best ice cream concoctions she’d ever had.


She lingered in the small, mostly empty restaurant for a few hours, attempting to get more work done but primarily focused on digesting enough of the day's food to wander the park again in search of more. She felt crammed full, unsurprising considering she’d eaten more food before 1pm than she normally did in a full day, but she was determined to order the largest possible meal at every given opportunity, determined to make the park wonder where all that extra money they were losing was really going.


She was still stifling burps of overfullness when she finally packed her laptop bag and readied herself to head out in search of an afternoon snack. The schedule she’d planned to follow included a snack earlier in the day, but Carly had been too full to even move from the Hovel’s comfortable chair, much less force down any more calories.


She was still struggling to find the healthier options she was certain would be readily available at each restaurant, and for her midday snack settled on a funnel cake, the tantalizing scent of fried dough and sugar irresistible after spending the day inhaling it. The funnel cake was large, messy, and delicious, and Carly finished it in short order, leaving both her hands and her face covered in a fine dusting of powdered sugar.


She sat in a sugar-induced stupor afterwards, groaning lightly to herself and promising to find an equally expensive but significantly lighter option for her dinner that evening. She sat rubbing her bloated middle and halfheartedly going over reports until 5pm, the hour her dining plan renewed for dinner, then hauled herself to the nearest park map, searching for a truly tenable dinner option. After several moments of consideration, she finally settled on a Down Home Diner, certain that American fare would feature a salad or two.


After getting settled with a menu in the sit-down restaurant whose cloth napkins surprised Carly, she scoured the menu to discover that while the Americana-dotted restaurant did feature a Cobb and Caesar salad, neither choice was available under her unlimited dining plan. Nothing in the restaurant could reasonably be considered light, and after watching a waiter make his way to a hungry family burdened under four glistening cheeseburgers piled with toppings, she sighed and mentally selected the BBQ Bacon Big Boy, a choice smothered with not only cheese, but also a sweet and spicy barbecue sauce and a layer of crispy onion rings.


As the burger made its way to her after just a few moments of an orange soda-accompanied wait, she eyed it nervously, stifling yet another unfortunately timed burp as the daunting meal was set in front of her. She was absolutely stuffed, fuller than she’d ever been in fact, but she still had a meal and a snack to get through. As she lifted half of the massive portion towards her lips, both hands now covered in sauce, she promised herself that her evening would consist of researching the park more thoroughly. She would find her healthy options, and this whole process would become much, much easier.


After her investigation into the park's more balanced food options turned up basically empty-handed, Carly was discouraged, but not dissuaded. The park seemingly refused to include traditional health food in the meal plans, in Carly's opinion based on the logic that those health-minded enough to buy a fruit smoothie or a garden salad at an amusement park known for its deep-fried, butter-slathered, sugar-coated junk would pay whatever price to avoid the extra calories. While the logic was theoretically sound, Carly had already paid whatever price, and she refused to pay more on top of the meal plan she was already attempting to seek vengeance for.


She was instead armed with a new plan, one she’d realized would be the only way to avoid a repeat of the gorging she’d been all but forced to undergo the day before. She entered Cowabunga Cafe and flashed the cashier a smile, then began her convoluted, calorie-cutting order.


“Can I do the breakfast burrito, but can I have a half portion of the meat, cheese, and eggs? And no bacon please. And no tortilla. And for the eggs, can you not fry them in butter? Actually, can I get them boiled? And a black coffee, please.”


The cashier blinked at her.


“No substitutions, ma'am.”


Carly threw up her hands, the frustration of communication with the Silver Wave staff apparently never-ending.


“No substitutions?” she demanded.


“No?” the cashier confirmed uncertainly. “I mean, yeah. We can't change anything. And we don't have black coffee.”


“Well, just…” Carly paused, letting out another disquieted sigh.


Of course. Thwarted by Silver Wave’s corporate policies once more.


“Just give me the coffee you make before you put all the stuff in it.”


“It comes blended,” the cashier replied with a shrug.


“Fine!” Carly snapped, irritated with the same apathy that landed her in this situation in the first place. “Fine. Just a number one combo then. With the blended coffee.”


“Coming right up,” the cashier promised as Carly scanned her digital meal pass. “Oh, nice,” the cashier noted. “The annual. So it's free.”


“It is very much not free,” Carly corrected. “I paid $2000 for this, it was the furthest thing from free.”


The cashier blinked again and Carly fought not to roll her eyes, certain the cashier was smoking whatever the ticket attendant had been on.


“The food is free,” the attendant clarified slowly as if Carly hadn't understood what she meant. “You pay for the pass, and then the food is free.”


“Oh my god,” Carly breathed, turning to grab a table without acknowledging her last statement.


Despite her anger at the lack of flexibility surrounding the food’s preparation, she couldn't deny the quality and put away her breakfast much more quickly than she was anticipating, just as she had the morning before. Her lunch consisted of a ten tender combo at Wing-a-Ding, her afternoon snack a nacho platter that, in her opinion, truly should have been categorized as an entree, her dinner a personal pan pizza that could’ve easily fed three, and her evening snack another visit to Down Home Diner for a second experience with the shake she hadn't been able to stop thinking about since the evening before.


She lumbered off to her car with her laptop bag in tow at the end of the night, barely able to hold back her burps or quiet her low moans. Targeting the most expensive items on the menu was going to be a bigger challenge than she thought, but it would all be worth it. The second the park noticed that she’d made more than 13 visits and swiped for all 5 meals on each one, they’d have their eye on her. Carlrly just knew that by 20 visits maximum, they’d be calling her into their offices to negotiate. She’d get her money back, and she’d get her regular diet back. A win-win, even if it required her to eat a little more than she was used to for a while.


Seven days after the onset of Carly's plot for vengeance, she stood in front of the mirror, frowning at her reflection and poking the quickly developing softness that was pressing between the open flap of her favorite work slacks. She’d been stuffing herself silly at the park for a week straight, and combining that with her typical two hours of gym time being swallowed by her new commute, Carly swore she could feel her body swelling beneath her clothes. She told herself there was no possibility she could be getting bigger so quickly, but the fit of her pants didn't lie. She was struggling to button slacks she’d been wearing for years, and she couldn't solely blame the bloat-swollen middle she staggered through the door each night cradling.


She took a deep breath, trying to center herself in her mission. The pants still fit, as long as she sucked in to button them. She was being dramatic. A little weight gain was reversible, but if she didn't follow through on this plan, the money she’d spent wasn't.