[Verse 1] I was born inside a small town, I’ve lost that state of mind Learned to sing inside the Lord’s house, but stopped at the age of nine I forget when I get awards now the wave I had to ride The paving stones I played upon, they kept me on the grind So blame it on the pain that blessed me with the life Friends and family filled with envy when they should be filled with pride And when the world’s against me is when I really come alive And everyday that Satan tempts me, I try to take it in my stride You know that I’ve got whisky with white lines and smoke in my lungs I think life has got to the point I know without it’s no fun I need to get in the right mind and clear myself up Instead, I look in the mirror questioning what I’ve become I guess it’s a stereotypical day for someone like me Without a nine-to-five job or an uni degree To be caught up in the trappings of the industry They showed me the locked doors I find another use of key And you’ll see
[Chorus 1] I’m well aware of certain things that will destroy a man like me But with that said give me one more, higher Another one to take the sting away I am happy on my own, so here I’ll stay Save your lovin’ arms for a rainy day And I’ll find comfort in my pain Eraser
[Verse 2] I used to think that nothing could be better than touring the world with my songs I chased the pictured perfect life, I think they painted it wrong I think that money is the root of evil and fame is hell Relationships and hearts you fixed, they break as well And ain’t nobody wanna see you down in the dumps Because you’re living your dream, man, this shit should be fun Please know that I’m not trying to preach like I’m Reverend Run I beg you, don’t be disappointed with the man I’ve become Our conversations with my father on the A14 Age twelve telling me I’ve gotta chase those dreams Now I’m playing for the people, dad, and they know me With my beat and small guitar wearing the same old jeans Wembley Stadium crowd two hundred and forty thou I may have grown up but I hope that Damien’s proud And to the next generation, inspiration’s allowed The world may be filled with hate but keep erasing it now Somehow
[Chorus 2] I’m well aware of certain things that will befall a man like me But with that said give me one more, higher Another one to take the sting away I am not beyond my own, so here I’ll stay Save your lovin arms for a rainy day And I’ll find comfort in my pain Eraser And I’ll find comfort in my pain Eraser And I’ll find comfort in my pain Eraser
[Verse 3] I woke up this morning lookin’ in the mirror Thinkin’ to myself that I should probably be thinner The industry told me to look like them But I found my happiness in fried food for my dinner I wish that she could have been my first time And I wish that I’d never took that first line And I wish that every word in this verse rhymed But forgive me if it doesn’t I wish that I could make peace with my older cousin I wish he didn’t think that it was me when it wasn’t I wish I didn’t love it when I’m high and my face feels buzzin’ And the taste stays underneath my tongue Wish that I had known what to do as a youngling Wish I hadn’t dropped out of school and missed every single party With that hardly matters now, man, does it? Wish I had an answer to everything, but fuck it I wish creatin’ art didn’t come with a budget But while we’re on the subject I wish my private life would have never gone public But that’s the sacrifice that we make Spendin’ my whole time high livin’ life away
[Chorus 3] Singin’ this is how we’re livin’ down here Sittin’ on the edge, lookin’ out without fear Yeah, we got drama but you know we don’t care I wanna see you sing it, put your hands in the air, one wish I’m singin’ this is how we’re livin’ down here Sittin’ on the edge, lookin’ out without fear Yeah, we got drama but you know we don’t care I wanna see you sing it, put your hands in the air, one wish
[Verse 4] I wish my family and friends they stay healthy I wish that love was a currency and the whole world was wealthy I found myself late night wishin’ on a star Everyday I wish I’d never broken a heart, uh And I wish I’d never run to Every woman that I loved that kept my life and what it’s come to I wish I was the role model you looked up to If I told my fans the things I did they’d say, “Fuck you” I wish I was home more I wish my teens could see the kids on the birthdays, but yo, we’re on tour And I wish I’d grow more, wish I told more People that I love ‘em but it’s in the music that I’m known for And I wish he never got cancer And if I smoke a pack a day, well, does that make me a wanker? Oh yes, I guess it does, and we’re still stressin’ 'cause Every day this shit gets the best of us Usin’ my balance on eraser blades Spendin’ my whole time high wishing life would wait
[Chorus 3] Singin’ this is how we’re livin’ down here Sittin’ on the edge, lookin’ out without fear Yeah, we got drama but you know we don’t care I wanna see you sing it, put your hands in the air, one wish I’m singin’ this is how we’re livin’ down here Sittin’ on the edge, lookin’ out without fear Yeah, we got drama but you know we don’t care I wanna see you sing it, put your hands in the air, one wish
[Verse 5] I’m using jumpers for goalposts, cigarettes for throat cold Mum sayin’, “Don’t smoke,” no, I don’t listen, I got Love for a ghost note, shows on the gold coast People that I don’t know share the same vision I find truth in the hard times and words that aren’t mine Tryin’ to find a love with a compatible star sign Sometimes I can’t write, sentences can’t rhyme Starin’ at my notepad quick, I’m tryin’ to find mine Shit, quick before I hit it again Surrounded in the industry by all these ignorant men And who knew that I’d be paid just to pick up a pen Just let me hit the studio when we can rip it again I’m a competitive dick, with an adrenaline kick My daddy told me work hard and you can never be shit I’ve seen all my heroes dethroned except my dad Set back here reminiscing 'bout the times we had One wish
Jim Bob Cleaver stood before the Judge, blond head bowed, looking at
the floor, hoping that he was acting humble enough. His lawyer had told
him not to smirk or even smile during his trial for receiving stolen
goods, and to try to look and act like the fair-haired football hero
that he had been when he was the big man on campus at the local high
school. None of it had worked, not even the expensive new “preppy”
clothes which his girlfriend had bought for him to wear to the trial.
The jury had found him guilty, the judge had revoked his bail, and here
he was, squeezed into a bright orange jumpsuit, hands cuffed together in
front of him.
Jim Bob’s bright blue eyes remained staring at
the floor as the Judge started speaking. “Jim Bob, our whole town has
known you all your life. You were the high school football quarterback,
homecoming king, and senior class president. You were truly destined for
big things when you graduated from high school four years ago. You had
the whole world in front of you. Instead of making something for
yourself, you chose to drop out of college. Instead of working and
supporting yourself, you chose to sponge off your girlfriend…” Jim Bob
struggled really hard to avoid smirking at this point. He thought to
himself that the Judge might call it sponging, but he would just call it
payment for services rendered. In return for keeping his girlfriend
happy in bed, she supported him, and actually gave him everything he
wanted—new car, fancy clothes, all the pot and beer and good food he
wanted, all of it.
The Judge continued, “…you chose to sponge
off your girlfriend, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, and formed a
criminal ring to earn more money for yourself. Even though you didn’t
steal any cars yourself, you hired others to do the dirty work while you
took a cut off the top of the selling price of every stolen car which
was resold. Because this is your first offense…”
look serious, Jim Bob told himself. This is it. He stared at the floor
and tried to focus on his bright orange jumpsuit as a way of avoiding
showing any hint of the cockiness that had always been the main feature
of his personality. Actually, Jim Bob’s view downwards was blocked by
the round orange-clad bulge of his big fat belly and the two smaller
round bulges in the tightly stretched orange cotton cloth which marked
his fat bulging man boobs.
“…I hereby sentence you to one year in
the State Prison, followed by five years probation.” The Judge stopped
speaking. Jim Bob looked up at him, and said in a voice which he hoped
sounded sincere, “Thank you, Your Honor.”
As Jim Bob was led out
of the courtroom, he turned and glanced at three people sitting right
behind the defense area. His girlfriend Polly was crying, tears running
down the cheeks of her flawlessly made up face, auburn hair glistening
in the bright courtroom lights. Her expensive silk dress showed off her
44-22-40 figure. She still looked like the high school cheerleader and
only child of the wealthiest man in town she had been when she and Jim
Bob become an item their sophomore year in high school.
Polly sat Chester, Jim Bob’s first cousin. Tears streamed down
Chester’s round cheeks. He and Jim Bob were the same age, had been
raised together, and thought of themselves as brothers. Although he now
had the build of an offensive guard-gone-to-fat, he had been the
receiver on the same football team Jim Bob had quarterbacked. Next to
Chester sat Brittany, Chester’s girl friend since high school.
Polly mouthed to Jim Bob “I love you” as the guards led him into the back room.
No one else from Jim Bob’s family was there. He was an only child, and
his father, one of the local preachers, and his mother had both passed
away from lung cancer within two years after Jim Bob’s graduation from
high school—they had always been heavy smokers.
In the Guard
Room behind the courtroom, the guard motioned to Jim Bob to take a seat.
Jim Bob eased himself down. The orange jumpsuit was so tight that Jim
Bob had to sit carefully for fear that a seam would fail. Wouldn’t do
for the big shot of the local high school to suffer the embarrassment of
bursting out of his clothes, even if it was only a jail uniform.
At that point, another guard came in, carrying a large McDonald’s bag.
Jim Bob recognized Billy Jones, one of his high school football team
mates who had been a tackle. They had been known each other in high
school but hadn’t moved in the same crowd. After high school, Billy had
gone into law enforcement and now he was proudly encased in a snug
guard’s uniform. Their paths had parted aside from the “wassup’s” they
exchanged when they ran into each other around town.
said Billy, “thought I’d bring you some lunch. You’ve got a long trip
ahead of you this afternoon, big guy.” He patted Jim Bob’s bulging
belly as he said this. Like most of their classmates, he couldn’t get
over how much Jim Bob had let himself go in the four years since high
school graduation. “Thanks, dude,” replied Jim Bob, “breakfast at the
jail this morning wasn’t much.” He opened the bag and took out the three
double quarter pounders with cheese, supersize fries, 20 piece nuggets, 3
fried apple pies, and large strawberry shake.
“This may be
your last good meal for a while, man”, said Billy .” I hear that at
State Prison, all the inmates are on tight rations.” He couldn’t help
but stare at Jim Bob as he said this. He thought to himself how Jim Bob
had changed since their football days when at 5’9”, 160, he was one of
the best quarterbacks in the state. Usually a polite guy, Billy was kind
of surprised at himself when he heard himself asking Jim Bob, “say man,
not to be nosy, but how much weight are you carrying now?”
Bob laughed and drawled, “No problem, dude. When I was arrested , they
weighed me in at 292. Think I must have dropped a few on that jail food
since then, though.”
Billy thought to himself, 292! No wonder
the other guards were talking about how they were having a hard time
finding a jumpsuit to fit Jim Bob. Jim Bob’s big round belly and big
bulging man boobs, his thick love handles, his enormous protruding round
butt, and his thick thighs stretched the thin cloth of the jumpsuit in
“Wow, friend. You really have picked up some
pounds since football.” Billy thought this was a good topic for
conversation to distract Jim Bob from his prison sentence. Jim Bob
scarfed down his lunch as they waited for the van to take Jim Bob to
prison. Jim Bob replied to his old teammate, talking while eagerly
chewing mouthfuls of food.
“Well Billy, I guess I’m a sure
enough fat boy now”, Jim Bob drawled, “…you know how it goes. After
football was finished the weekend beer and pot parties started to put
some pounds on me. At first, I thought Polly would mind it when I began
to put on a pot belly and my ass started chubbing up, but dude, it’s
like the fatter I get the more she likes it. Billy, I mean, she LOVES
The two 22-year-olds exchanged knowing glances, Jim Bob thinking
back to how hot Polly was as she worshipped his expanding body, and
Billy just thinking of how hot Polly always had been.
Jim Bob continued,
“As far as Polly is concerned, dude, all I have to do is lounge around
all day eating and relaxing while her daddy’s money just rolls in. So,
I’ve been livin’ high on the hog! I just need to make sure ‘Little Mr.
Jim Bob’ here is ready for action whenever she wants it.” He laughed as
he reached beneath the watermelon sized bulge of his fat belly and
grabbed his crotch for emphasis.
“Hey man, there’s nothing bad
about getting fat. Most of the guys on our team have really porked up
since we stopped playing football. I must have put on a good 50 lbs
myself ever since I passed the physical to become a guard and could
relax a little. And looks like your cousin Chester has been doing some
good eating, too.” Billy laughed and patted his own belly.
drawled, “Yeah, ol’ Chester’s put on about a hundred or so. He tells me
his girlfriend always bugs him about his weight, but dude, you should
see him shovel the food in when he comes over for dinner. He’s a big ol`
heifer. The only time he stops eating is when there’s no food left.”
By this time, Jim Bob had finished the McDonald’s lunch and wiped his
greasy hands on the bag. “I really appreciate this, Billy,” said Jim
Bob, and for once he actually was sincere. “Well, for old times’ sake,
dude”, said Billy, who was never not sincere, “just want you to know
that whatever happens, we’re still friends.” When Jim Bob heard this, he
felt a little guilty for all the times he thought Billy was a hopeless
square, certainly not one of the super cool in-group in their high
The van soon arrived and with some effort Jim Bob
hoisted his tightly-encased bulk into the back. He was on his way to
prison for a year.
Jim Bob handled prison OK. Always a smooth
talker and a manipulator, Jim Bob also knew when to take a low profile
and keep his mouth shut. The big shock was his first day, at the
orientation for new inmates. He was issued his prison uniform, this time
a bright red jumpsuit worn over a white T-shirt. When he went to put it
on, he found that the legs and rear end were very tight. He could only
pull the front zipper up to a couple of inches below his deep
bellybutton. The mass of his fat round belly and the wide roll of flab
around his waist blocked any effort to hoist the zipper up higher. When
he said to the trustee inmate who distributed the uniforms that he
needed a bigger size, the inmate laughed and told him not to worry, it
would fit “soon enough”.
He next was taken to the infirmary,
where another trustee weighed and measured him and the other new inmates
while they waited for the doctor to check them out. 5’9” Jim Bob was
weighed in at 290 lbs. “Boy, you’re a big one!” exclaimed the trustee, a
large black dude named Rasheed who looked like nobody gave him any back
talk. “But that fat’s gonna disappear soon.”
Jim Bob was curious. “Why?”
Jim Bob’s question was answered by the doctor, a grim-faced elderly man
who was standing in the doorway. “You prisoners are not sent here to
get fat, or in your case, fatter, on taxpayer’s money. All our prisoners
are on strict portion control. 2050 calories a day, just what is needed
to keep a sedentary young man healthy. No seconds ever. It’s a matter
of economics. If we let all you prisoners eat whatever you wanted, we’d
have to cook three times what we do now, and we’d end up with a lot of
fat boys like you, young man. And don’t even think of buying snacks.
Those privileges are strictly limited.”
At that point, another
inmate went into the physician’s examining room, the door closed, and
Rasheed started to talk again. “Yeah, friend, even if you have the money
to spend on snacks, they charge $5 for a Hershey bar at the prison
store. So, that tight uniform you have on now will be loose on you
mighty soon. You won’t believe it, but when I came here five years ago, I
weighed 380. Now look at me…I’m lucky if I’m 235. Now, friend, do me a
favor and walk over to that table and chair so I can take your blood
Jim Bob did as he was asked and Rasheed followed him. Jim
Bob noticed Rasheed checking him out with a look of amazement on his
face. Rasheed then said to Jim Bob, “Man, you are REALLY fat. You got
the biggest ass I’ve ever seen—on a white boy, that is.” Jim Bob smiled,
grabbed a thick roll of his soft bulging love handle, and turned on the charm. “Yeah,
brother, it’s all due to my girlfriend. She likes me big and fat.”
Rasheed was nostalgic as he said,”Yeah, man, that’s how my lady was
too.” He then added, “Well, when you get out of here, there’s gonna be a
lot less of you for her to love.”
Everything turned out to be
as the doctor and Rasheed had told Jim Bob. Because of prison
overcrowding, meal times were brief. The food was well prepared but
there wasn’t much of it—just enough for one serving per inmate—never any
seconds. Because of the large number of inmates, chances for a prison
job were almost zero. There was a weight room, but inmates had to take
their turn—an hour a week max for each inmate. Jim Bob was in a low
security area with other non-violent short-timers like himself. All the
inmates there kept out of trouble so they could go home as quickly as
possible. White, black, latino and Asian, in this part of the prison,
they all had only one thought—getting released on schedule. Jim Bob
turned on his charm and worked at getting along with everyone and
minding his own business. So, Jim Bob spent most of his time watching
TV, thinking of Polly, and waiting for visiting day every Sunday..
At first, Polly came every Sunday. She cried, but not enough to mess
her makeup. She filled Jim Bob in on the news. She was so lonely
without having Jim Bob and “Little Mr. Jim Bob” around. She missed
feeling Jim Bob’s weight on her while he pumped her. By the way,
Brittany, Chester’s girlfriend, had dumped him and moved to Biloxi.
Polly felt sorry for Chester, he was devastated. Etcetera, etcetera,
etcetera. If Polly hadn’t been so hot and so rich, Jim Bob would have
gotten bored with her chatter years ago.
Jim Bob noticed over
the next few weeks that Polly talked more about Chester. She felt so
sorry for Chester since he had been dumped, and a nice guy like him too.
At the same time, Jim Bob noticed the look of disappointment on Polly’s
face as she noticed how he was losing weight. Rasheed, the big trustee
who had talked with Jim Bob that first day, was right. After a month,
Jim Bob had lost 20 lbs. on the jail rations and was steadily dropping
It was about this time that Chester began to come to
visit Jim Bob with Polly. Only one visitor at a time was allowed, so
Polly ended her conversation with Jim Bob early. She left the room and
Chester came in. Jim Bob noticed right away that Chester was getting
fatter. When Jim Bob said he was sorry to hear that Brittany had dumped
him, Chester replied, “That bitch? I’m glad she’s gone. I got me a much
better situation now.” He then stopped abruptly and changed the subject
to talk sports, leaving Jim Bob with a vague feeling of uneasiness.
next weekend, only Chester came to visit. As Jim Bob watched Chester
walk into the room, he noticed that Chester seemed to have gotten even
bigger and flabbier during the previous week. His tight white polo shirt
had ridden up on his blubbery belly, revealing a three-inch-wide loaf
of soft pink new belly fat ballooning over his pants as Chester walked
forward toward Jim Bob, a big smile on his face.
“Where’s Polly?” asked Jim Bob.
said Chester, “it’s her time of the month. She started to get cramps
real bad when we were eating breakfast this morning. She said to tell
you she’ll come by real soon.”
Eating breakfast this morning? Chester getting fatter? Jim Bob felt a
wave of suspicion and anger as he abruptly asked, “Chester, are you
Chester turned white, and his jowls and chubby cheeks
started to quiver. “Ah…ah…ah…, come on, Jim Bob. We’ve been like
brothers ever since we were born. Would I do that to you?” Jim Bob’s
anger was intense but still not quite strong enough to cause him to lose
control. Anyway, he was separated from Chester by a Plexiglas
partition. Jim Bob forced himself to stay calm by repeating to himself,
“Don’t do anything to screw up your release date.” Soon, the visit with
Chester was over
The next week, Jim Bob received a letter from
Polly. She was sorry, but having him away was harder than she thought.
Her needs were too great for an absentee boyfriend who wouldn’t be
released for ten more months. Sorry, Jim Bob.
arrived for Jim Bob about a month later. Billy, his high school teammate
who was now the jail guard back in his hometown, wrote out of the blue,
saying that he and the guys on their old team felt bad for Jim Bob and
the way he was being treated by Polly and Chester. Chester had moved in
with Polly and was parading around town bragging about what a good life
he had now. The letter closed with “Just want you to know, Jim Bob,
that you have some friends back here in your home town and we look
forward to getting together with you when you’re released.” That letter
made Jim Bob feel a little better, but not much.
For the next
ten months, Jim Bob was a model prisoner. His only thought was to get
out of prison on his release date and to head home. After getting the
letter from Polly, Jim Bob moped around and lost his appetite. He went
to meals because he had to but ate only enough to keep himself going
until his release. He just didn’t have his old taste for food any
The old pre-prison Jim Bob had grown to love food, the great
feeling being nice and full gave him, and the big round belly and
ballooning fat ass which were the result of all the excess calories. The
new Jim Bob couldn’t care less. The results soon showed. Jim Bob
steadily continued to lose weight. By the time Jim Bob was released, his
jumpsuit had grown baggy on him.
Jim Bob’s release date
arrived. He stopped by the infirmary for his release physical. He was
measured at 5’9”, 170 lbs. Rasheed congratulated him on his release and
added, “friend, I still remember how ya were that huge ass white boy who
waddled in here a year ago. See, didn’t I tell ya that ya were going to
drop some pounds here? Now you look like most of the other white boys
around here—no butt at all on ya.”
Rasheed and Jim Bob both laughed, but
then Jim Bob turned grim. “Say, man, you’d lose your appetite too if
you found out your lady had dumped you and was screwing around with the
guy who had been closer than a brother to you!”
“Shit, man, now THAT is disrespect! But, man, get on with your life.
The bitch ain’t worth nothin’ now. Find someone else. Don’t ya go
getting caught at anything again and have to come back here. Good luck,
man.” Jim Bob really was sincere when he shook Rashid’s hand and wished
him good luck too. For sure I’m never gonna come back here, Jim Bob
thought. As for finding someone else, he’d have to take things as they
Jim Bob stayed with Billy the jail guard and his
family for a week until he was able to get a furnished room in the home
of an elderly widow lady. Jim Bob got a job at the local Burger King and
after a month was appointed night manager. He made an effort to avoid going
anywhere that he might run into Polly or his cousin Chester. The pain
was still too great, and besides, he didn’t have the money to go to
those fancy places now anyway.
A week later on a sunny Saturday
afternoon, Jim Bob was with Billy, some of the other members of the old
football team, and their families at a picnic at the local lake. The
day was filled with fishing, swimming, touch football, card playing,
talking, and eating—a most enjoyable country Saturday afternoon.
Bob and Billy were talking when Billy suddenly stopped and pointed over
to the parking lot. “Well, lookee who’s here.” Jim Bob recognized
Polly’s Mecedes SUV and he grew quiet, his eyes narrowing. Polly stepped
out of the driver’s seat, and after a few minutes, a large figure
emerged from the passenger side. The man had his back turned to Jim Bob,
but then as he turned and noticed Jim Bob, he started to approach Jim
Bob and Billy. It was Chester, bare-chested and wearing only a huge
pair of shorts, ready for a cooling dip in the lake.
next to the SUV as Chester slowly waddled forward. Each massive thigh
rubbing past the other caused Chester’s enormous hanging belly and
sagging, basketball-size man boobs to shift and sway from side to side.
While Billy and Jim Bob stared at this spectacle, Billy said softly,
“Jim Bob, that’s one thing I didn’t tell you when you were at prison.
From the day Chester moved in with Polly, he started piling on the
pounds. I heard he has to weigh himself at the Feed and Grain Store
Chester finally reached Jim Bob and Billy, and held out
his hand, a broad smile dimpling his round face. “Jim Bob, it’s good to
see ya. I jes` wanna let ya know that I hope we can be like brothers
again. Let’s put everything in the past, man.”
Jim Bob ignored
Chester’s outstretched hand, and Chester barely finished talking before
Jim Bob, eyes narrowed into slits in his anger, bowed his head and
suddenly rushed forward, punching at Chester, trying to knock him off
his feet. 465 lb Chester didn’t move. Jim Bob’s 170 lb body didn’t even
make him take a step backwards when Jim Bob slammed into him. Billy was
able to pull Jim Bob away before his flailing fists caused any damage to
Chester’s fat-padded body.
Chester backed up a few feet and
flexed his fat-sheathed biceps, sending ripples on his huge drooping
man boobs and the rest of the flab which draped his torso. “Look, small
stuff, I gave ya a chance. Don’t challenge me until ya put some meat on
that sorry skinny body of yours and we can go at it man to man. That
ain’t gonna happen, though, is it, little cousin? Looks the the big deal former
fat boy has turned into a twink!.” At this, he turned his back on Jim
Bob and Billy and started to waddle back to Polly, still standing by the
SUV. His wide sagging ass wobbled and jiggled in the huge pair of
shorts which covered Chester’s wide hips and bulky hindquarters. .By the time he
reached the SUV, Polly had entered the driver’s side. Jim Bob glared in
anger, Billy still holding him back, as Chester maneuvered himself into
the passenger’s side. The SUV seemed to sink about a foot and settled
under the impact of Chester’s bulk.
“You’ll get yours, Chester, I
promise, you’ll get yours.” Billy was surprised at the depth of the
anger in Jim Bob’s voice. “Nobody disrespects me like that and gets away
“C’mon now, buddy”, said Billy at this point. “Remember you’re on probation and one arrest will send you back to prison.”
Bob suddenly put on his charming smile, the smile which had gotten him
so many things all his life, and said to Billy, “yeah, you’re right.
That fat shit ain’t worth it.” That’s what he said, while in his mind he
began to think of a way to get his revenge.
Over the next
eighteen months, Jim Bob kept up his new life. The townspeople were
pleased to see how he changed after his stay in prison. He seemed more
humble, somehow, and definitely harder working. He frequently worked
overtime at Burger King and joined the local gym. He didn’t find any
special lady in his life, but like many single guys his age, he had no
problems picking up someone at a club or a beer joint on the weekends,
so “Little Mr. Jim Bob” was reasonably happy. He avoided Polly and
Chester at all costs. One sight of Polly’s Mercedes SUV, the only one in
town, and Jim Bob headed the other way.
When not working at the
Burger King, Jim Bob took his meals at any of the cafes and small
restaurants in town which served good “down home style” southern
cooking. The waitresses who served Jim Bob soon began to give him bigger
portions as he turned on the charm, smiled his perfect smile, and left
bigger tips, too, Managing a Burger King meant lots of free food and
people began to notice that Jim Bob was rapidly putting on weight again.
Only natural, too…it was expected that 24 year old guys like Jim Bob
would be putting on some pounds. It was the way things were for all
country boys, not just the ex-football jocks. The more the waitresses noticed
the roll developing around Jim Bob’s middle and the way the rest of his
handsome body was quickly porking up, the bigger his portions became.
Bob’s landlady did her share to aid Jim Bob’s growth. He was so nice to
her (he really was, this was the truly sincere side of Jim Bob that
showed itself on occasion), doing yard work and fixing things around
the rooming house, always stopping to chat and pass the time of day when
he saw her sitting by herself. His landlady began to prepare special
treats for her handsome young tenant. Jim Bob, on returning from the
late shift at Burger King, would see a note on the door of his room in
his landlady’s handwriting telling him to check the ice box for a
special treat she had made for him. It became a nightly ritual—pans of
rich corn pone, mixing bowls full of banana pudding, pecan pies—Jim
Bob would take a glass of cold milk or sweet tea, and enjoy his treat
even though he had just come from closing the Burger King where he had
finished off all the leftovers.
Jim Bob’s lifting at the gym
meant that a lot of his new weight was solid muscle, but Jim Bob was
also proud when he noticed how his fat pot belly and big fat jutting
butt were redeveloping., not to mention how thick his quads, glutes,
hips, chest, arms and shoulders were getting.
As Jim Bob rapidly
grew bigger, some of his lifting buddies at the gym started kidding him
about the “fat-over-muscle look” or “big bellied power lifter look” he
was getting, and some of the customers at his Burger King took to joking
with Jim Bob about how he was becoming a “walking advertisement” for
that great Burger King food.
Jim Bob always laughed, and hoped he
sounded sincere when he always drawled in reply, “yep, just enjoyin’ the
‘good life’, I guess” while he patted his fat round belly. The
waitresses who looked forward to his good-natured kidding with them when
he came in for his meals, and his landlady who now was kept busy
letting out his clothes and repairing split seams and popped buttons so
that Jim Bob could delay spending money on bigger sizes for a little
while, all were happy to see him seeming to enjoy life and eat well.
After all, he had paid his debt to society, right?
though, Jim Bob was still seething with anger at Chester. But, Jim Bob
never let his inner feelings show and turned on the charm whenever and
to whomever he needed to.
Jim Bob had the charm turned on full
blast the day he showed up at the office of a diet doctor in Nashville.
It had been a long drive from his home town. Jim Bob gave the
receptionist all the information needed from new patients. He told her
he was going to have to pay cash—didn’t have any medical insurance—and
signed in as “John Smith”. In a few minutes, he was shown into the
doctor’s office. The doctor checked him out—pulse and blood pressure
normal—and than asked him to strip down to his boxer shorts and got
him on the scale. It read 325 lbs. The doctor took note of the bright
red stretchmarks which covered his new patient’s wide love handles, fat
belly, and big round man boobs, how “John Smith”’s pot belly and
love handles erupted over the top of his boxers, and how the thin white
cloth of the boxers was pulled skin tight across his wide hips and
enormous round fat butt cheeks, making the fly gap wide open so “Little
Mr. Jim Bob” was visible, nestled in curly blond pubic hair.
Smith” went back to the seat next to the doctor’s desk, his flab
jiggling and quivering as he walked, and started talking. “You see,
doctor, I’ve got to do something about my weight. I’ve put on over a
hundred twenty-five pounds in the past year and a half and it seems
like I just can’t stop eating. My boss has told me that if I don’t start
to lose some weight, I’m going to be fired from my job.” “John Smith”
just oozed that old Jim Bob sincerity.
The doctor replied, “Well,
Mr. Smith, I see what you mean. We have a lot of young male patients who
started out in good shape, like you, and just have ballooned up. I can
see you have a lot of muscle, but your stretchmarks indicate how much
fat you’ve put on recently.”
“John Smith” replied, “Yeah,
doctor, I’m hungry all the time. I just can’t stick to a diet. I’m
desperate, doctor!.” His voice had just the right note of pleading in
“Mr. Smith, let’s try some appetite suppressants for now.
I’ll give you a prescription for the newest drug on the market. I’ll
call in a prescription for a month’s supply to the pharmacy right
downstairs. You should notice a decrease in your appetite right away
which should make it easier for you to stick to the diet my receptionist
will give you on your way out. Just be careful—these pills are very
powerful stimulants. If you notice any signs of your heart racing, or
if you feel faint, call me immediately. But, even though you are much
too fat for a young man your age and height, you are basically in great
shape and should tolerate the medication well.”
As Jim Bob left,
he picked up the diet sheet scheduled an appointment for a month away,
paid his bill in cash, went downstairs to the pharmacy and paid cash for
“John Smith”’s prescription.
Jim Bob had a shit-kickin’ grin
on his face as he headed out onto the interstate for the long drive back
home from Nashville. He made a stop at a McDonald’s for a nice big
lunch, tossing the diet sheet and next-appointment card the diet doctor
in Nashville had given him into the trash as he left McDonald’s. On the
drive back, he ate the fries and finished off the box of chicken nuggets
and half a dozen fried apple pies he had bought as a snack. Still
feeling a little hungry, he made a stop at a Stuckey’s and bought a
pecan log. Back in his car, he tore into the sweet treat, rubbed his
big belly, savored the taste of the pecan log, and smiled as he thought
how well the day had gone.
What luck that the diet doctor had actually
prescribed for Jim Bob the very medication he had learned about on the
internet. Boy, Jim Bob, reflected, the old “Jim Bob charm” is still
there! To think that the doctor would actually fall for that crap and
think that Jim Bob would ever want to be a skinny twink! What a jerk the
doctor was! Didn’t he realize that there were plenty of good ol’
country boys like Jim Bob who took pride in their big appetites and the
weight which padded their frames with every extra calorie?
Jim Bob got home, the prescription bottle with the thirty capsules went
into the bottom bureau drawer, under some socks, waiting for Jim Bob to
Two more months went by and Jim Bob continued his
daily routine—working, lifting, socializing with his buddies and
acquaintances around town, and eating big. He put on another twelve
pounds, more fat than muscle, but Jim Bob was pleased.
He was real happy
the day his landlady gave him back the latest pair of pants he had
asked her to let out for him. Giving him the pants, she drawled, “Land
sakes, Jim Bob, I swear you’re fallin’ away to a ton! You’re gonna havta
buy size 52 pants in a little while—I can’t let these out any further.
But ya carry the weight well, son! And I must say it does my heart good
to see the way ya enjoy your food.!” Much to her surprise and pleasure,
Jim Bob, that shit-kickin’ grin on his face, gave her a peck on the
cheek. Jim Bob grinned because he had come to truly care about the kind
old lady, and he also knew that he was at last ready to deal with
Jim Bob kept his ears open around town when he stopped
to talk with any of his old friends. While in the past he automatically
tuned out whenever Chester’s name came up, now he discretely listened
carefully to what was being said about his cousin and now mortal enemy.
Billy the jail guard and Jim Bob’s other buddies did talk about Chester
a lot. They couldn’t help but talk about their classmate who was now
living a life of ease, supported by Polly’s money. There was speculation
about what it was Polly saw in Chester, especially now that he was so
enormously fat. One of the guys who worked at the Feed and Grain Store
reported that Chester had last weighed in at 587 lbs, quite a change
from the 5’10”, 165 lb wide receiver he had been in high school. Jim
Bob’s buddies all had put on some weight themselves—shit, it was
normal, wasn’t it?—but ol’ Chester had really taken it to an extreme.
Stories spread around town about the stupendous appetite Chester had
developed, and it seemed like every week there was a new story about how
much Chester had eaten—three dozen biscuits with gravy, a dozen
helpings of cheese grits. One glance at Chester as he waddled
breathlessly from the SUV to whatever food place Polly had driven them
to confirmed the stories.
One day, Jim Bob heard that Chester and
Polly would often go on a Saturday night to a road house over in the
next county where there was good country music and great food. Some
Saturdays Chester would go alone if Polly had taken a quick trip to
Atlanta or New Orleans for a weekend of shopping. Jim Bob quietly
arranged his schedule at work so he always had Saturday nights off.
A month later, on a dark, moonless Saturday evening, Jim Bob was
sitting in his car in the road house parking lot, close to where the
familiar Mercedes SUV was parked. He was wearing dark clothes. The door
to the road house opened and a large shadow emerged and started moving
slowly toward the parking lot. This had to be Chester, thought Jim Bob,
as he quietly got out of his car and slipped behind the SUV.
Chester stood next to the driver’s side door, panting from the exertion
of waddling out to the SUV, fumbling to reach into the pocket of his
skin tight pants for the car keys, he was thinking of the great meal he
had just devoured—three double orders of fettuccine Alfredo, a loaf of
butter-soaked garlic bread, and five desserts, washed down with an
entire bottle of red wine.
He was feeling some discomfort in his chest.
Maybe this was what they call heartburn? Too bad the cashier at the
restaurant didn’t have any antacids or anything when he paid his bill.
Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last piece of apple pie topped with
cheddar cheese and a double scoop of ice cream—but it looked so-o-o
good! He thought how proud and happy Polly would have been to see how
much he was able to eat tonight. She just loved it when Chester pushed
himself to eat huge, and she always showed her love in the bedroom as
soon as they got home.
Still thinking of Polly, Chester was
massaging his immense sagging belly and trying to force a belch when a
shape rushed at him from out of the darkness and hit him like a ton of
bricks. 337 lb Jim Bob hit Chester low, knocking him off balance. The
next thing Chester knew, he was flat on his back with a hand clamped
tightly over his mouth, feeling a heavy weight sitting on his massive
stomach. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he recognized that the
weight was Jim Bob.
Chester was gasping for breath and motioned
that he wanted to speak. Jim Bob took his hand off Chester’s mouth, but
at the same time reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun which he
held to Chester’s temple. It was too dark for Chester to realize the gun
was only a toy. Chester managed to gasp, “Jim Bob, cousin, what are ya
doin’? Remember, we’ve always been closer than brothers.”
Bob replied quietly, “With a brother like you, I don’t need any enemies.
Now you’re going to get what you deserve for disrespecting me.”
Still holding the toy gun to Chester’s head, Jim Bob reached into his
jacket pocket and took out a plastic bottle of Coca Cola and the pill
bottle. Deftly uncapping the cola bottle, Jim Bob opened the pill
bottle, poured the capsules into his hand, and put them up to Chester’s
mouth. “Okay, ‘brother’, open wide and swallow”. Chester, still
breathing heavily and actually gasping for breath—the most exercise he
had gotten during the past three years was lifting his food-laden fork
to his mouth as often as possible and then lying on his back in bed
every night while Polly rode him—swallowed the capsules and then took a
gulp of the cola from the bottle Jim Bob shoved up against his fat
Jim Bob’s final words to Chester were, “Now, Chester, into
the car and relax. Just sit there for a few minutes and everything will
be just fine.” Jim Bob hoped his mock sincerity was believable to the
huge man struggling to his feet next to him, still gasping heavily from
the combined effects of his heavy meal, the bottle of wine, and the
shock at what had just happened.
Chester managed to open the car
door and back his bulk into the driver’s seat of the SUV, making the
vehicle settle under his tonnage. He sat there, still trying to catch
his breath and grasp what had just take place. Was it a dream or what?
If only Polly was there! She’d take him to get something to eat and
everything would be jes’ fine again! Chester felt his heart racing as he
grew drowsy. That was it! Maybe he jes’ needed a little nap! That would
make things better! He closed his eyes….
Jim Bob waited a few
minutes, checked around the SUV to make sure he hadn’t left anything
behind, went back to his car, got inside, and sat there quietly for
about ten minutes more. He was happy that his luck was holding. No one
had left the road house during the time he had confronted Chester.
minutes more passed and Jim Bob started his car and drove out of the
parking lot. Not a sound came from the huge man sitting in the SUV.
On his way home, Jim Bob stopped at a Denny’s and ordered a complete
fried chicken meal, with a side of a 6-egg ham omelet, a double order
of hotcakes, and a double order of cheese grits. After he finished
eating, he went to the men’s room and noted with pleasure how the bulk
of his big belly, huge round buttocks, and wide meaty hips practically
filled the stall. After relieving himself, he took the empty pill bottle
from his jacket pocket, and peeled off the label, which got flushed
down the toilet. The now-unlabeled pill bottle went into the trash. Jim
Bob belched contentedly as he got into his car and headed home. The toy
gun soon went back into the toy chest of his landlady’s young
Two days later, Jim Bob scanned the local
newspaper and noticed a story at the bottom of page one. “Local Football
Hero Found Dead”. He read further, “Chester Cleaver, 26, was found dead
early yesterday morning in his SUV parked at the parking lot of a
well-known roadhouse on Route 28. Cause of death is suspected to be a
massive heart attack. According to waitresses at the roadhouse, Mr.
Cleaver had eaten a huge meal there, as was his habit. He seemed in good
spirits as he left the establishment about 10 p.m., although he
mentioned to the cashier that he had some discomfort in his chest area.
The waitresses and cashier reported that he was breathing heavily as he
left the roadhouse. Local sports fans will remember Mr. Cleaver as the
star wide receiver on our local high school team seven years ago The
police report lists Mr. Cleaver’s death as cardiac arrest brought about
by his weight, reported to be 587 lbs, and the enormous meal he had just
consumed. No autopsy is planned.”
Chester’s funeral was held
two weeks later. Jim Bob was there and sure seemed sad. For appearances
sake, he even managed to squeeze into his good suit—his landlady had
to let out his dress pants as far as possible in the waist and rear so
he could shoehorn his big round ass into them while his belly ballooned
over the waistband–and he wore a dark tie. At the grave yard, Jim Bob
stood with his head bowed as the prayers were being said. He was staring
down at the big round bulge his pot belly made in his tight white dress
shirt (his suit jacket was so tight he couldn’t button it, leaving the
round mass of his fat pot belly proudly on display) and forcing himself
not to betray any sign of the broad smile he felt inside. The old Jim
Bob phony sincerity was there in full force.
As the prayers
continued and Jim Bob stood with his head bowed and eyes closed, he
noticed the familiar fragrance of an expensive perfume. Head still
bowed, he opened his eyes and noticed an expensive black silk dress on
the female figure which had appeared next to him. A gloved hand reached
over, and unseen by the other mourners, gave Jim Bob’s big soft fat
butt cheek a hard squeeze. Polly!
Jim Bob heard Polly softly
whisper, “I don’t know what it was that caused me to dump you, Jim Bob.
All I know is that I’ve missed you for a long time, sugar. Why don’t we
meet back at my place this evening?”
Jim Bob said nothing. He
struggled even harder to control the smile he felt inside as he
continued to pretend to pray. His stomach rumbled with hunger while
“little Mr. Jim Bob” stiffened to attention. Jim Bob was already
thinking of his future…..
Gazer never thought he would make it without his brother.
Pens had left Gazer heartbroken and Brooklyn a newsie shy.
For months the other boys that Gazer knew would ask where he went. The thing was, he had no clue. With the constant badgering, Gazer’s patience was wearing thin.
He could remember, it was an ironically nice day out despite the events that would take place.
It took one of Gazer’s closest friends to bring up that topic.
“Wonder if Pens is livin’ the high life somewhere?” Gazer had taken off.
He sprinted through the Brooklyn lodging house and kept running. His sight had gone blurry so he slowed. Gazer eventually came to a leisurely walk, and he took in the scenery around him.
The only thing he recognized was the shouts of the days headline from unfamiliar newsies.
Where was he? It was obviously not Brooklyn, and now Gazer was even more scared than before.
Then I’m the middle of streets Gazer did not know, he froze. He sank to his knees, it was all happening to fast, in his perspective.
Gazer’s head started to spin, he couldn’t focus and his chest was beginning to tighten.
“Hey. You okay kid?” Gazer looked up from his shaking hands. A boy stood lazily, staring down at him. A cigar hung from his mouth and it seemed like he was out of papers to sell.
Gazer shook his head no.
The boy sat down next to him, his unruly blonde hair poked out of his newsboy cap.
“I’m Racetrack, and who might youse be?” The boy asked Gazer, sticking his hand out.
Gazer took a deep breath. “I’m Gazer, I live over in Brooklyn.”
Race’s eyes widened. “And you came ovah to Manhattan!?”
Gazer jumped up. He was in Manhattan?
“Well, I don’t know why you’re here, or why you was layin’ on the sidewalk, but I’ll take you back to the lodgin’ house to see if Jack knows what to do with ya.” Race sighed and grabbed Gazer by the arm.
17 and 18 year olds mercutio and tybalt taking an excruciatingly long amount of time to come out to each other and it ends up happening by accident because mercutio texts ‘livin’ the high life? more like livin’ the bi life’ to tybalt and starts freaking out and tries to avoid tybalt but tybalt tracks him down and is like 'it’s cool, dude, i won’t tell anyone’ but doesn’t have the courage to say he’s gay just yet so they end up falling back into the old habits of cuddling and eating takeout together as they watch cheesy movies and tybalt realizes he’s usually focusing on mercutio more than the movie and ends up just kissing mercutio during one of them and foregoing the coming out and mercutio’s so surprised he can’t move and tybalt pulls away thinking he’s done something seriously wrong but mercutio processes what happened and pulls tybalt back