Note from Ray: I wrote this a while back for submission to a humor site. It had to be in list form, because apparently, that’s what people want out of their internet comedy these days. Frankly, I find it slightly annoying. But that’s just me. Anyway, I wrote this, sent in my pitch, and never heard back from anyone. So now you get it. Like I said, I find the list comedy a little bothersome, and I wouldn’t even be posting this, but the truth is, I haven’t written anything in a few days, and I start feeling neglectful when I don’t post.
It’s summertime again, which means it’s time for society as a whole to strip away the layers of confining clothing in which it’s been huddling all winter. Time to pack away the bubble jackets, the snowsuits, the mittens, the scarves, and the boots. Time to break out the sleeveless translucent tops, the microskirts, the tight shorts, the bikinis. Or, if you’re a guy, time to break out the binoculars and the lotion. However, it won’t just be hotties and eyecandy venturing out to the parks, lakes, and swimming pools this season.
While the beautiful people spent their winter dieting and working on their artificial tans, the fatties have been fine-tuning their ability to eat three packages of Oreos in one sitting and setting records for the greatest amount of time in front of a computer. One group spent the cold winter months doing sit-ups and gagging themselves until they puked. The other group spent the time avoiding standing up and eating until they puked…and then eating some more. Something about this equation doesn’t add up. The slim attractive people work hard for their right to grace the public eye. The chubbies just waddle out of their cat-piss-smelling apartments and get in the way: instant view pollution.
Is this a mean thing to say? Perhaps. Cold and heartless? Probably. Unfair? Not at all. Need convincing? Then read on.
Five Reasons Fat People Should Stay Inside This Summer
1) You ruin the view. This one’s obvious, and shouldn’t need mentioning, but obviously it needs mentioning, because you’re still out there, fat people. A guy can hardly admire the view of a McDonalds sign without the eyesore of a herd of hefties Jabba the Hutt-ing their way through the doors. (Quick sidenote: Ever noticed how fast food places always have double doors? You show me a fast food place with a revolving door, and I’ll show you a deathtrap for chunkies.)
2) Think of the children! You’re scaring them, fat people. They see you, they freak out. It’s hard to say if this is because they’re afraid you’re going to eat everything they love and cherish—Skittles, ice cream, cookies—or if they’re afraid that you’re going to eat them. Probably both. Or maybe it’s because you look like a fucking monster, eh? Human beings have one chin. Two are sometimes acceptable, but you better have a good personality, if you want to make it work. You come walking up with sixteen of them, of course you’re going to scare the shit out of a child.
3) Think of the internet! Seriously, who’s holding down the fort while you’re drinking your eight milk shakes, eating your four pounds of French fries and lumbering around the park, blocking my view? Imagine this: I come home at the end of a long day of creepily eyeing the sexy babies in their bikinis only to find that I can’t get any porn because the internet isn’t working. I click on all my favorite links, only to be shown the same message over and over: “Internet closed due to lack of interest.” I mean, the nerds and dorks do what they can, but they’re only so powerful without their core element—the fat people.
4) Slow! Fat People Walking. I don’t understand it. You even have little mini-vehicles to haul your fat ass around, and you’re still slow! You should be the speediest shoppers in Wal-Mart, and yet you’re the ones always in the way, blocking the aisles, taking forever—you might as well be on foot. Which, by the way, is the level of Hell that Dante neglected to mention—the one where you’re in a hurry to get to the meeting with your probation officer and you’re trapped on the sidewalk between two fat people. Sawing my own penis off with a rusty butter knife would be less agonizing. I know this because I took it up as a hobby the last time I was stuck behind two overly-chatty chubbies on a sidewalk.
5) Don’t remind me. All right, fat people, let’s get down to it. You’re slow, you’re annoying, you’re an eye sore. You scare children and you hold up progress. But the worse thing about you is that you’re a reminder of what will happen to the beautiful people if they let down their guard for even a second. Two words: Kirstie Alley. Two more: Holy shit! I don’t know what happened there—it’s like the Kirstie Alley from the future built a time machine and then came back and ate the Cheers Kirstie Alley or something. Not important. What’s important is, when I’m out buying my two dozen sausage McMuffins, I don’t want to see you and be reminded that I’m one Krispy Kreme donut away from becoming one of you. Worse yet, I don’t want to see you and realize that I’ve got ten pounds on you. Jerks.