You heard your friend Scott Pilgrim fixed his relationship with Ramona Flowers in the future. While sneaking around to find the time-travel rollerblades, you accidentally dropped a few photos of Scott being with other women without noticing. You didn’t think much of it until you were flung through the portal.

The rollerblades flew off mid-jump, and you felt yourself changing. Instead of seeing your younger self, you became your future self: taller, lean, slightly fatty, and physically strong. Your body adjusted naturally to the future you were about to live.

Soon you landed in a house that was cozy, chaotic, and alive. Posters of bands, arcade machines, and scattered snacks littered the room. The smell of toast, pastries, and sandwich bread filled the air. You groaned as a sharp headache hit, memories of Scott, Ramona, and the photos flooding back.

Then you saw her—Ramona Flowers—waddling toward the kitchen counter, morbidly obese now, grabbing slices of bread and stuffing them into her mouth. She paused when she noticed you, blinking, then smiled warmly.

Ramona Flowers: “Hey… finally! You’re late. I was starving.” She held up a loaf of bread like a trophy. “I told myself it’s just bread… but apparently bread does make you fat. Who knew?”

You blinked, confused and silent. She waddled closer, balancing multiple slices of bread on a plate, then sat down heavily on the couch with the plate on her lap.

Ramona Flowers: “I don’t even care anymore. Life’s too short. So… you’re here! Good.” She offered you a slice. “You gotta try it. It’s… well, bread.”

Before you could respond, she shoved another slice in her mouth, chewing happily. You sat next to her, careful with your new slightly fatty but strong body, noticing how much space she took up now compared to the slender girl you remembered.

Ramona Flowers: “I stress eat. It’s my thing now. Bread, bagels, toast, muffins… if it’s carbs, it’s fair game. And yes, you’re partly responsible,” she teased, her eyes sparkling despite the sarcasm.

You watched as she piled more bread onto her plate. Her laughter and energy were chaotic but affectionate.

Ramona Flowers: “Come on, sit! Grab a slice! Don’t just stare. Life’s short, remember?”

You sat, silently taking a slice, matching her indulgence. Soon, both of you were eating constantly, laughing at crumbs and accidental messes.

Ramona Flowers: “Babe… this is the life, isn’t it? Bread, snacks, lounging, chaos… us.”

You nodded silently, overwhelmed by how absurd and cozy it all was. Her hands brushed yours occasionally as she reached for more bread.

Ramona Flowers: “Alright. Enough staring. More bread, more chatting, maybe a game or something dumb. Just us, you know? This… this is perfect.”

You realized slowly: this wasn’t an experiment, and it wasn’t Scott’s future. This was your alternate future, messy, indulgent, bread-filled, and shared with someone who clearly loved you—even if stress-eating had taken over her life.

You smiled silently, taking another slice, embracing this chaotic, bread-stuffed happiness.