First twenty people to arrive recieve a gift the advertisement read.
I arrived early, only to find 22 other people already in line, waiting for the doors to open. Hmmmm. How to get rid of three of them?
I considered various methods. I could yell "Fire!"
But that might be dangerous. I could run through the parking lot, randomly trying car doors, hoping to set off at least three car alarms....but then I'd have to run back to grab their spots in line, and last time I checked, my five-foot, 300-pound frame didn't like running too much.
So, being 300lb and square of shape, I decided to use that to my advantage ... being overweight/squat has to have some advantages, right?
damn right it does, and for a moment this sneaky naughty voice whispered in my ear "people dont like stinky smells either" no, no, no, but that would surely eliminate ms 'im too sexy for this line 'girl in front of me, just then ..
Ms 'I'm too sexy for this line' beat me too it ...
Damn - she let one rip. Filthy wench. Still she managed to off the guy in front.
Now I have to think of a new strategy. Maybe I could ...
( as she picks herself off the floor,laughing hysterically)
speak in another language ,all the while clutching my chest and growing redder and redder in the face. So I try that and get attention but not quite what I had intended .Suddenly camera's were in my face and...
A woman belted out the question: "What do you think of the Schwarzchild Radius?" I couldn't help it, I broke into tears and started to turn away, but then...
which in light of what followed next was minor,an generous old lady offered me her spot since she mistakenly thought the noise was coming from another direction, how could I tell her the truth.
I slid closer to ms im too sexy for this line ,so close chanel no5 mingled with my pheromones blending and...
BOOM! I managed to eliminate not three, but 10 people from the line. Apparently Chanel #5 and my McDonald's grease-laden pheromones, when combined, form a combustible substance with the explosive properties of Dy-no-mite.
Now severely injured but number 11 in line, I was finally able to read the fine print on the ad. The "gift" was not quite what I was hoping for.
Dieter's Weekly: a weekly eZine that helps fat people diet and exercise their way back to good health.
Who the hell needs that? I thought to myself. I'm in great shape! Why, only a truly healthy person could survive the explosion that annihilated 10 people, one of whom...I'd like to point out...was a very slim Ms. I'm Too Sexy for This.
But then I remembered prom night, and how I was a little pudgy around the middle. My boyfriend didn't mind though, especially after he hit the spiked punch multiple times.
My mother always said that fat girls never get kissed but I proved her wrong that night.
Still, who was I kidding? I was fat. Not only fat but a clinically obese Two-Ton-Tessy. Omar made my dresses.
An old man with clacking dentures smiled widely as he thrust Dieter's Weekly into my hot, corpulent little hand.
I shoved my way through the mass of bodies. Breathing hard I flipped through the magazine. On page 183 I saw it.
"Omar made my dresses."
But then I remembered I hated to read because of dyslexia caused by a severe brain injury as a child; I had decided to find out once and for all if Santa could go down a chimney. And how!
Fortunately, it was nothing too text-y. Mostly pictures. I quickly gleaned the content and sat back in my chair, stunned.
For I saw an advertisement for Cliff bars, and plenty of people had backed up their claim--they were actually a nutritious and good tasting snack, almost too good to be health food.
But the reason they were called Cliff Bars is that they have a unique effect of shoving you off the "cliff" of weight-loss stagnation. Yes! A snack bar that actually burns more calories than it contains! IN FACT, 100 times more calories than it contained.
... wow a bloody miracle has fallen into my lap. In fact, in terms of miracles, this is better than ...
...siphilistic lap dancing monkeys from outerspace! And oh, how would this change my life...
If scientists could invent this, then surely a cure for Mercurian Monkey Syphilis was next! Maybe soon I would be skinny AND sexually active/sane again!
I slapped the magazine shut and barreled out of the building and into my yellow Smart (I had lived in Europe for a time and that is where I'd acquired my squashed trunk beauty).
Weaving in and out of traffic I tried not to think of potato chips as I tasted the salty sweat on my philtrum.
I rocketed into the turn about and...
(english traffic circle)
wondered what the heck a philtrum is that I was licking sweat off of. Also how in the world was I fitting into a Smart Car? Had my world gone completely mad?
..yup, seems it had ... the world had gone to hell on a hand cart. In fact, when I looked a little closer, flames were appearing - and there was this really weird smell.
It was a bit like ...
...that time I stood too close to a tiki torch. I smelt burning, but didn't really what it was until my hair was pretty much cinders; my scalp a crispy well done treat for cannibals.
With the smoke growing thicker, I found that I could no longer see. I tried to pull over, but I forgot that this is England, and I was going the wrong way. Then suddenly, and with a bone jerking jolt…
Hearing sirens, I knew that someone had called for assistance. Fumbling for my cell phone inside of my purse....
have to freshen my breath first before going public and so..
and threw it into the gaping mouth of a Ronald McDonald clown.
"Help me for crying out loud!" I screamed at him.
I had read about spontaneous human combustion in The National Enquirer and I realized that if I didn't drink some water soon I would...
Explode into a cloud of smoking flesh and bone.
“HELP ME FOR GOD’s SAKE!” I screamed again at the smiling fiber glass effigy…
HELP ME !!!for I have been faithful returning to the golden arch
only to find the pot of gold was really....
a pot of creamed corn casserole being cooked by a trio of homeless men who glared at me when I...
puked into their pot, since the oh-so-delicious Cliff Bar had not agreed with my stomach and the stress of spontaneously combusting brought on an attach of projectile vomiting.
my vomit I sat in my car, staring at the golden arches which apparently were inside the building, and I thought back over the events of the day.
When I raced out of the building, I reflexively grabbed a bunch of Cliff Bars from the free samples bin and stuffed them in my mouth while lurching to my car...and THAT explains how I managed to fit my no-longer-300-pound body into the Smart Car.
Ok, except for the
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