The fat bitch
Posted on | July 24, 2007 | 19 Comments
A fat man with a fat dog sat on a park bench.
The fat man was sweating heavily. It was summer and unusually hot. The fat dog lay at his feet panting. The walk up the hill from the monument was tough.
The fat man squirted some water out of one of those bottles you get these days. It’s hard to just find one with a hole rather than some kind of teat. The fat dog lapped it up, then snorted once before laying his chin on his paws and closing his eyes. The fat man took out his detective novel and started to read.
Some time later a fat woman with a fat bitch sat on the bench beside them.
The fat dog cracked open one fat eye and looked at the fat bitch. The fat dog was an old dog. He was not bothered by things like bitches.
The fat bitch looked at the old dog and knew his kind. Had been around the block, had seen it all, wouldn’t raise a sticky old eye to anything at this stage.
“I wish I’d been born into a different family”, she said. “A thinner, healthier family. Running around in the park, chasing things, fetching, doing that thing where you go down on your front legs and stick your arse in the air and bark. I feel like I’ve missed out.”
The fat dog sighed. Not to acknowledge the conversation in any way, just to sigh.
“Then you could chase postmen, play football, run up things, run down things, not be drawn every single time to the worktop when someone’s cooking. You’ve got that voice in your head telling you to resist but there’s another voice, the stronger voice, that tells you to sit at their feet ready to gobble up any scraps. Christ, I want to svelte but I want to eat more than I want to be svelte.”
The fat dog scratched behind his ear lazily and knew he had to say something. The fat bitch would just keep on talking.
“Eating. Sleeping. Pooing”, said the fat dog. “That’s all there is to it. The rest is incidental.”
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19 Responses to “The fat bitch”
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July 24th, 2007 @ 12:09 am
i am that old fat dog most days except Mondays when i pick my dole , but i don’t lick my own balls or no ones for that matter , that’s just not nice
July 24th, 2007 @ 12:26 am
I would have your babies if I wasn’t already taken and you weren’t…well you know how you are.
July 24th, 2007 @ 12:55 am
How positively zen like
July 24th, 2007 @ 1:55 am
Were the dogs Beaphins?
July 24th, 2007 @ 4:28 am
an australian has already created the beaphin, although they are called labradoodles to make them seem cuter/less evil. by interbreeding labradors and poodles, he created a large, strong, intelligent and completely neurotic/psychotic dog which has no fear of guns and can run and swim really well. be very afraid
July 24th, 2007 @ 7:05 am
And so the world stopped excercising after reading the new Gospel according to Sir Twenty( He was never nighted but after selling 520 million books he demanded to be called sir). Yes it was a fatter more smelly world but its was also a happier place. Now on to the next exibit the Excercise bike. we think people used to use these to go no where but they were able to pretend they had a life, it was closely linked to the walking machine we believe.
July 24th, 2007 @ 9:41 am
Damn! I was sure the punchline was going to be that the Old Dog and the Fat Bitch were actually the two humans talking.
July 24th, 2007 @ 10:07 am
seems most americans have taken ur philosphy to heart twenty…
July 24th, 2007 @ 10:46 am
Harry Potter dies but gets resurrected.
July 24th, 2007 @ 11:11 am
heh.
July 24th, 2007 @ 11:57 am
“but I want to eat more than I want to be svelte.”
The bottom line. Nuff said.
July 24th, 2007 @ 12:00 pm
Did the Fat Bitch take note of the Fat Dog’s wisdom one asks?…more to the point did he f*ck her?
July 24th, 2007 @ 1:03 pm
“Eating. Sleeping. Pooing”, said the fat dog. “That’s all there is to it. The rest is incidental.”
He forgot drinking & riding, other than that he was spot on
July 24th, 2007 @ 1:45 pm
I really think the fat bitch would much rather be referred to as the curvacious she dog…….
July 24th, 2007 @ 2:01 pm
Ah Jaysus, Twenty, I was hoping for a vitriolic rant about those stinking gypsies at the M-50 roundabout and I get a love story about 2 fat dogs who aren’t Mary Harney and Derek Davis.
Standards are slipping.
July 24th, 2007 @ 3:16 pm
“Eating. Sleeping. Pooing” What about drinking and riding twenty???
July 24th, 2007 @ 4:28 pm
Ahh, it’s a dog’s life isn’t it – eating sleeping and doing the poopsie woopsies – you must spend a lot of time watching fat bitches to be so philosophical.
July 24th, 2007 @ 6:34 pm
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha…..
I don’t get it…
July 25th, 2007 @ 12:45 am
Jaysus, Twenty, now you’ve gone all zen. Why are you writing this shite when you could be knocking out some insightful piece on Lindsay Lohan or Bono (on second thoughts don’t bother)?