As the shards of shattered mirror cascade to the ground, the Man-Bear-Pig's void-like eyes appear to dance with an inner light, while the grotesque folds of its snout seem to contort into a configuration that could charitably be described as a smile.
"Finally, you have banished the fork from my domain!" exults the Man-Bear-Pig. "Come! Let me embrace you and adore you to the full measure of your merit."
The bulk of the Man-Bear-Pig looms over you, and it's colossal, hair, trottered arms enfold you ineluctably.
You remain in this hug of horrors until you forget you ever had any other existence. The Man-Bear-Pig croons continually over you, periodically breaking and re-breaking each of your ribs as it squeezes you tighter and tighter over the months and years. You are compelled to sustain yourself by suckling the rancid, faintly mayonnaise- tasting milk of the Man-Bear-Pig's anatomically inexplicable teats.
Though you lose all track of time -- of even the concept of time, and indeed of space and hope and beauty and pretty much all concepts other than that of the Man-Bear-Pig's abominable embrace -- eventually seven years have passed. The Man-Bear-Pig releases you, smiles -- if it is a smile -- down upon you affectionately, and lumbers away. You collapse onto a scattering of mirror fragments.