The Great Meal

"Why, hello there, Wayne. Did you bring dinner?"
"Yes, I did!" , Wayne held up a brown paper bag with black plastic containers in it.
"Oh, no no no. We won't be needing that for right now.", Mario motioned for Wayne to join him on his sofa.
"Why not?"
"Turns out, I made something for dinner, too!"
"Oh, really?", Wayne asked. "What would that be?"
"It's a Lemieux family secret. I'll whisper it to you."
Wayne leaned in closer to Mario, his ear next to his mouth, in order to hear.
It was at this moment, that Wayne knew, he F'd
up.
Mario grabbed a hold of Wayne, opened his maw, and gulped him down without hesitation, despite Wayne's struggles. It's as if Mario was preparing himself for this moment!
"Mmmmmph! *slurrrp!*" The Great One was now in the Pens' player-owner's stomach, ready to be digested. Lemieux lied down on his sofa, and rubbed his gut. The gut that was, in fact, so big, that the buttons on his suit were flying off.
*stretttch!*
"Ooh!" *Riiiip!* *Pop! Ping! Click!*

Mario felt a churn, as Gretzky struggled to leave his digestive tract.
"UURRRP! Excuse me!"
*Muffled*
"What was that, Wayne?"
*Muffled Scream*
"Aw, the stomach acids gettin' to ya already, n'at?"
*Slosh*
"Ohhh. That feels soo goood! Yummy!"
His stomach acids hissed and gurgled as The Great One was dissolving away into soup.
"So, good, Wayne. Thank you so much!"
Another gas bubble became an *urp!*
*gloosh!*
Mario was so full, that he, in fact, went straight into a food coma.

Notes

It may be a little late saying this here, but by Wayne bringing dinner, he is the dinner!