bizarreville

“Good morning, it’s 7:42 and we’re back with Fat Talk.  Are you as outraged as I am about these new proposed regulations in Bizarreville that would put a 50-cent tax on every can and bottle of non-diet soft drinks?  I mean, first it was the flap about having to pay for 2 airline seats if you were over 275 pounds…now this?  Call me at 1-800-CHUNKSTER, lines are open.  These feeble attempts by the government to thin us down to some pre-determined limit have gone too far, and it’s high time we rebel.  Our layers are bought and paid-for.  But here comes Big Brother again feeling a new social calling to manage personal behavior.  1-800-CHUNKSTER.  First call is from some skinny guy in Flumplard.”

“Yeah, first time caller, long-time listener.  You know you fat slobs sit around all day eating box after box of Oreos, bag after bag of nacho cheeseballs, Twinkies by the carload.  You don’t exercise, you don’t jazzercize, you never consider dieting, you just eat, fart, and s#!$ around the house…”

“So…..what’s your point?”

“My point is:  you and your tub-master listeners need to stop continually jamming your pie-holes.  Your obesity is affecting your health, and all of us skinny taxpayers are picking up the tab.  Most of you are too fat and too lazy to work, so you end up sucking away on the government dole.  Even without a job, you somehow still find ways to overeat, even if it mean sacrificing the roof over your head to get that double cheeseburger.”

“You sound like you need some Anger Management therapy, my friend.  There’s a good therapist …right next to the Main Street Bakery in Flumplard…mmmm…best peach cobblers I’ve ever eaten.  Like a peach explosion in your mouth.  And cupcakes.  Once bought a dozen of their red velvet cupcakes…melt in your mouth awesome.  Try it.  Next caller…?

“Hi.  I was going to make a point about the soft drink tax, but you reminded me of another bakery in Flumplard.  It’s right on the corner of 4th and Flumplard Boulevard…called Creamy Dreams, or something like that.  They make their own fudge that they spread over giant pecan danish pastries.  Never had anything like it.  You should try it.”

“Mmmmm…sounds good.  I may go there after the show is over.  You know, while we’re on the subject of bakeries, I just heard a rumor that a new business is opening up in Shlonktown to DELIVER fresh bakery items to your home…right to your front door.  That’s right …something we have been advocating for years…reminiscent of the old bread trucks, but this time with trays of all kinds of yummy baked goodies.  Don’t even have to get off the couch.  Call me if you know anything about this at 1-800-CHUNKSTER.  It can be such a hassle to traipse down to a bakery a couple times a day.  And, if you’re like me, you smell the place and never want to leave…here’s another skinny guy on the line.”

“Why don’t you just move into a bakery?  Do your whole show from inside a freaking bakery every day?  That way you could just blather for 3 hours about all the smells and new concoctions the baker is whipping up…put all your listeners into a sugar-induced fantasy trance…”

“Not a bad idea….hey, Johnnie, put that on our list for next week.  Man, I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.  Got any more of those Ho-ho’s or Ding-dong’s hidden in your console back there, Johnnie?  Be honest, you chubby twerp.  Hand ’em over.   Back in a minute….”