a plague on all your houses
You look healthy. You have a glow about you that radiates a lusty, hearty, vigorous lifeforce. Oh, I can feel it. I can almost taste it. You're bounding along as though you don't have a worry, a care, an iota of fear that anything may befall you. It would be a shame if someone licked you.
Oh, do you feel that now? That sense you're crumbling away from the inside. You're not crumbling as such, more hollowing out. Some beasties like you bite, and gnaw, and devour bit chunks by the mouthful. I like to nibble from the inside out. Leaving an empty husk with only an echo of your innards to sustain you.
You could avoid it all. You might even manage to evade me. Most people have but there's always that one. That's the one I love the most. The overly confident one. The one who thinks themselves indestructible. It's almost like they're cream-filled with a gooey, arrogant filling. It makes this all the more satisfying.
Now stand still so I may lick thee.