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Print my pages.  Stuff my pockets.  Put my chair away.  Grab my pages, pay for the printing, and go eat a lot of food.  Eating that much food is a vicious cycle.  I get so fat, and the fat weighs me down, which makes me hungry, and I eat more, which makes me fatter, and so on.

I would like to go shirtless, like the man I saw walking across the street with his girlfriend.  He acted as though everyone was watching him, and were thinking, "WOW!".  It is summer and  he has spent many hours/day in the gym building muscles, and many hours/day in front of the mirror, flexing.  Every single person around is watching him so he tries to put on some kind of a show in hopes that he doesn't foul anyone's expectations of him.  So he bends over, and puts his hands on his knees as though he is seriously out of breath, and then he puts his hands on his hips as though he is just exhausted.  Then the light changes and he has to cross the street again, which is not unlike a runway.  He makes sure to walk a few paces in front of his girlfriend, because she is basically a slave to his vanity, as he is himself.  He has to eat highly nutritious foods 6 times per day, but he doesn't like eating the same things twice, but he can't afford a personal chef.  It's a tough life indeed.  Muscleman is a walking show.

As is Fatman, but instead of inspiring thoughts of cows grazing, Fatman inspires thoughts of cows in muddied fields eating a slurry of other cows and maybe some soggy hay.  Wall eyes.  Rancid breath.  Death knell mooing.  Panic in the air.

They look at Muscleman and think of the benefits of a well brought up steak.  They look at Fatman and think of getting worms.  But the worms help you lose weight, right?  Tapeworms can somehow get into your brain and direct your movements and influence your thoughts.  Without precursor, you will find yourself wanting to crawl up someones bunghole.

They won't accept debit for these pages, so I have to run across the street for some CASH.  Fatman running is a show and it reminds people of the circus, but it's better to run than walk  since that cuts down on the time in between.  Maybe if Fatman never carries cash he will constantly have to run to the gas station for it, and will thereby lose weight.  But even that small dash across the street has hungered Fatman incredibly.  He thinks of how much he weighs, and how much energy it is needed just to stand, and multiplies that by a million, and reckons one or two burgers is what he needs from starving to death.  That is insane, of course, but he no longer takes stock in North America's definitions.

Soon I will be living "High off the Hog" and will no longer have to print my pages here.  And I won't have to run nowhere neither.  I will finally be able to afford a Segway, and those can get up to 20 mph.  You will be able to see my smiles for miles. They will shine like a bacon.  Mmmmm..... 

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