A. I think I want to become a fat person.
B. You think you want to?
A. Yes. I think so.
B. Huh. Well, welcome to the club.
A. No, no, no. You’re not
B. C’mon.
A. nearly fat enough.
B. Oh.
A. I mean a real Fat Person fat
B. How
A. Like when you see me get on the plane you grip your armrest a little tighter, pull it down if it’s not already down, don’t breathe easy until I pass.
B. So, obese then.
A. Morbidly so, yes.
B. I never understood what that meant.
A. Morbidly obese?
B. Yeah. I mean, from the sounds of it I would assume ‘so fat that it is a darkly perverse joke,’ but that is awful mean-spirited for what I think is -or was- a medical term…
A. Maybe it means ‘so fat that you are dead– maybe not just yet, but in the near-future– so near that it is like there are two of you right now, one dead and one still living, and it would be irresponsible to say which is actually the real one’
B. I doubt it.
A. You never know. Except now. Except for this exact instance, you do know this.
B. I mean, isn’t morbidity a medical term. I know I’ve heard co-morbidity used in House…
A. Like the Doublemint Twins?
B. Doublemint twins…
A. No. Wait. That’s the gum people. I mean the, um… Winklevoss twins?
B. The Facebook guys.
A. No.
B. What twins are you thinking of.
A. I forget their name.
B. Are you trying to think of those motorcycle twins from the Guinness Book of World Records?
A. Yes.
B. I don’t know what their name is.
A. The Rojhepke twins.
B. I seriously doubt it.
A. Like them.
B. What like them?
A. CO – morbid.
B. Oh. A pun. Thanks.
A. Welcome.
B. That fat, though?
A. No. Probably more like you.
B. Ow?
A. You already opened the door, sir or ma’am.
B. What a polite and bases-covering judge!
A. I can’t imagine any situation that would be polite in.
B. Well, what about if you’re, you know. One of them–
A. No. No. No good sentence starts with “one of them”
B. hmmm
A. And no, I can’t imagine that would make my day. If I had figured in spite of my genitals I were a lady or a fella
B. Folksiness indicative of discomfort, good good
A. and then this judge’s idea of acknowledging that was to call me a defacto he-she
B. But she said sir or ma’am!
A. But I’m not one or the other! I specifically put my lot with– also who is “she”?
B. Really?
A. OH. The judge.
B. Man.
A. … shiiit.
B. You got emergency room doctored.
A. *sigh*
B. Now who is the fat one.
A. Me, soon.
B. How soon?
A. A month.
B. Ehh. Even that Super Size Me guy didn’t become a huge fat dude in one McMonth.
A. Two months?
B. You don’t want to have to be super unhealthy about it– if you’re actually going to do this, you don’t want to , you know. Just completely ruin your circulatory health doing so.
A. … I thought that was the one with the lungs and the heart.
B. No, that’s the respiratory system.
A. Because they circulate air.
B. Well oxygenate blood, which the circulatory system circulates, but no.
A. I could have sworn
B. 90 days. How about that.
A. Ok.
B. You can set goals to reach, do it nice and gradual, still keep up your exercising, but meet certain calorie requirements– through a specially targeted diet that limits your risk from saturated fats and cholesterols– so that you’re still building some muscle while also gaining fat. The right kind of
A. no
B. No?
A. no
B. C’mon. You can’t do this the wrong way or you could do yourself serious harm. You have to be responsible.
A. But I don’t want to exercise anymore. I don’t want to follow a diet. I just want to stop caring for a while and let this happen.
B. You want to commit body suicide.
A. No. That’s not fair. I want to enjoy my body, just, in a different way.
B. Through filling it with complete and utter garbage all the time like a dumb jerk.
A. Yeah, I guess.
B. Ok. Well, it’s your
A. Please don’t
B. own dumb life
B. I’ll get you a gift voucher for sausage casing and sausage casing ties. You can make your own sausage and then go fuck yourself with it.
A. Harsh.
B. I’m just rowling.
A. Doesn’t sound like it.
B. No, I– c’mon. Would I tell you to go fuck yourself just because you want to make yourself into a fat person
A. Like a magic trick.
B. What
A. I will go under this curtain, or string of handkerchiefs. When and only when, I say,  the three magic words: you will tap this handkerchief, with my magic wand, that I gave you, aaand
B. … and?
A. PRESTO! I have made myself into a fat person.
B. With my help.
A. No doubt, no doubt.
B. What are the three magic words and
A. Leggo , My
B. AND when I say them backwards will you turn back into regular you
A. Eggo. Yes. But you have to say them for real backwards like
B. For real backwards like?
A. Like, the sounds. Not just Eggo My Leggo.
B. Did you pause to see if it would make you
A. Yes.
B. But you’re not
A. I know.
B. fat yet. What
A. I was worried I would disappear.
B. Huh.
A. Let’s buy me some pie.
B. Ok.


A. All. Tuckered. Out.
B. You’ve barely touched your pie.
A. I ate three slices!
B. Out of eight.
A. Nghhhh.
B. C’mon. You’re never going to get fat leaving pie on the table.
A. Nooo.
B. It’s only five slices! Just think of them as five eggs.
A. Whuh?
B. Just five scrambled eggs. Barely anything.
A. That is a lot of scrambled eggs.
B. Yeah, but it’s scrambled eggs– it barely even counts as eating.
A. What? Why?
B. Well, you know, how you can just eat scrambled eggs all day and not even feel it.
A. No. I don’t know that.
B. Really?
A. I eat three and a piece of toast and some homefries and I am pretty much tapped out.
B. Well sure, if you add a mountain of toast and fries, sure you’re full.
A. No, it’s not mountains. Just a piece of toast and a scoop or two of homefries.
B. Like one of those cartoon Raisin Bran scoops?
A. No. More like a spatula.
B. Huh.
A. Huh
B. Don’t mock me.
A. Not mocking. Genuine interest in your eggs basket.
B. Don’t judge me.
A. Not judging.
B. Don’t… don’t.
A. Fine.
A. It’s ok if you want to eat a lot of scrambled eggs.
A. I just want to know why that, why so many, how come, why not me, and how many.
B. I don’t know.
A. To all five?
B. … no.
A. Well?
B. Well. To the first question, uh…
A. Why scrambled eggs?
B. I don’t know.
A. Make a guess.
B. They’re very fluffy. And small.
A. Small…
B. There’s not much there there, and by there I mean egg. The first there.
A. Sure. And why so many?
B. Well, kind of both theres.
A. ‘There’s not much egg egg’?
B. Not at the same time.
A. ‘There’s not much there egg.’
B. Ok, I was wrong.
A. Why so many?
B. That is– the same question.
A. No. Not necessarily.
B. But I already told you why eggs were so easy to eat a lot of.
A. But why would you?
B. I don’t think that’s what you meant.
A. It was now.
B. They just don’t fill me up.
A. And so you make more?
B. No. I just know to make 5 or 6 eggs.
A. Half dozen? We’re getting into Gaston territory here.
B. Didn’t he eat 72 eggs? Every day? For breakfast?
A. Well, obviously he was a cartoon and therefore exaggerated, but a real life equivalent like yourself would eat just 5 or 6.
B. Instead of 5 or 6 dozen.
A. I think it was only 4 or 5.
B. Oh, my mistake. Only 48 or 60 eggs. Instead of 6.
A. Touchy.
B. I don’t even eat one of the 4 or 5 units of measure he eats.
A. You eat half a unit of measure. That’s like one unit, twice.
B. No
A. No, I mean. “IN twice,” I mean. In two. Twice.
B. That pie really did a number on you.
A. I think I want to go do a vomit.
B. That is exactly the opposite. That is exactly the opposite of what you should want if you want to make this work.
A. I don’t.
B. Granted, maybe it’s not exactly the– oh! good!
A. I think I’ll just eat a lot and then throw it up instead.
B. No. NO. No vomit kisses.
A. *puke noises* Whaaaat? *puke noises* Come clean mommmy’s tongue.
B. *actual human puke*
B. Shdup sh *puking* it’s ntfnyysgsgahrrhrrsg
A. Hee hee hee
B. *clear throat, spit; spit; spit* You know I can’t *blow nose, spit* You know I can’t hear vomit noises and think about you as my mom.
A. Separately?
B. Separate is fine no I’m lying Separate is not fine.
A. Separate’s always better when vomit is involved.
B. *spit* Ugh. Whole apple slice.


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