They built skyscrapers out of empty cereal boxes. They irrigated the ketchup fields and mined the salt flats. Every night was a raucous celebration of "non-consumption." Frank and Brenda (a voluptuous hot dog bun) finally had time to explore their relationship beyond the frantic "get-eaten-or-get-away" chaos.

"Alright," he said. "Who wants to build a roller coaster?"

Suddenly, every pickle, pepper, and loaf of bread had a new dream: The Leap . They built ramps out of cheese graters. They tied helium balloons to celery sticks. Foodtopia devolved from a utopia into an extreme-sports death trap.

The problem was purpose . For millennia, food’s only goal was to be chosen, to be taken home, to achieve "The Great Beyond" (being eaten). Now, with no Gods to please and no mouths to enter, a quiet existential dread began to rot Foodtopia from within.