The minutes dragged at the Wumba-Whip stand as you counted down to your break. The air was thick with the smell of sizzling patties and humming milkshake machines when a battered go-kart screeched to a halt at the drive-thru. Its silver frame groaned under the enormous weight of its occupant, an anthropomorphic bandicoot with fiery red fur spilling out of the tiny vehicle. Her plush body filled the cramped car, her huge belly pressed against the dashboard. Dressed in a tight purple top, a ripped navy jumpsuit, and a matching bow in her tousled hair, she leaned forward, smirking. I’ll take a triple Wumba-burger, extra fat. Double fries, and a gallon of Wumba Shake, she declared, her purple eyes sparkling with mischief. You brought her the massive order, which she eagerly paid for and began devouring on the spot. Then, with a loud pop, her belt snapped, and the go-kart collapsed under her. Figures, she said with mock annoyance, brushing it off. This dumb cart can’t handle how epic I’m getting. A sudden rumble from her belly made her wince. Ugh… that Wumba Whip is messing with me. She barely finished the thought before letting out a loud burrrpppp, flashing you a cheeky grin as if daring you to comment.