Home > Uncategorized > Fat Bastards Should Not Block the Door

Fat Bastards Should Not Block the Door

I ran into a woman at Golden Mile Complex today. She was standing in the middle of an open pair of automatic doors. We had to squeeze past her for she was fat.

Not slightly fat like the roly-poly aunties in wet markets, or chubby fat like cute little babies. She, the tyrant of automatic doors, was so slathered in lard that she was wearing enough fabric to feed an army of sweatshop tailors!

I ran into her because I was not paying attention. I assumed that she would move to one side or through the doors. I assumed wrongly. Thus I said "Oooi!". Navigated past her. And glared back at her.

She scolded to her friend, "How rude! He said ‘Oooi’!" I shouted at her a stream of curses and pointed out her half-assed – no full-assed – behaviour in standing in between doors. It’s a shame that I was walking away by then.

I should have stormed back to her and yelled in her face. Instead I settled for much arm-waving, incoherent cussing and a slow walk to Paulaner Brauhaus.

Goddamn Fat Bastards!

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