IT Sucks

(10:45:57 AM) Mike: she’s a looker
(10:45:59 AM) Mike: wtf is that
(10:46:01 AM) Mike: that’s a gd lie
(10:46:05 AM) Mike: modeling
(10:46:07 AM) Mike: wtf for
(10:46:14 AM) Mike: bovine fancy
(10:46:56 AM) Mike: obesity aficonado

So I’ve been baiting idiots on CL for a long time. I posted this today, but it got flagged and removed for some stupid ass reason. Fuck them.

Lo, the time draws near, dearest fatties. The time of your demise, that is. For I have devised a plan that shall eliminate all of you in one fell swoop. I shall reveal the plan now, without fear of it failing, because there is nothing you can do to stop your fatty tendencies. Soon, I will reveal the location where you shall congregate to your prophetic fates.

After much expense to myself and countless others whom I have mugged over the years, I found a baker with a similar outlook on your existence, that it needed to be eradicated from the face of the earth. This baker was named Indio, and I met him in a prison close to Guadalajara where I was incarcerated for murdering a hobo. He told me the tale of his small Panaderia where he sold fine Mexican sweet breads, cookies, sopapillas, empanadas and cakes. Indio was a humble man, and even though the townspeople lauded him with praise, he was content to simply bake and create a finery of goods unparalleled in the Western World, hearkening back to the Golden Age of the food Renaissance. However, one woman, Manuela the Rotund, demanded Indio sell her doughnuts. Indio did not have a proper fryer in which to create doughnuts, and being a perfectionist, he refused Manuela. Day after day she persisted, demanding doughnuts, but getting nothing but a heart-felt apology in return. After some time, Manuela became enraged, as only a fatty with a craving for doughnuts can become, and set about destroying Indio’s shop. She burned it to the ground with a Molotov cocktail and laughed heartily as he wept in the ashes and at the bodies of his children who had been trapped inside the blaze. Manuela was unforgiving, and told Indio that now, perhaps, he would see the futility in resisting the will of a fatty. From that day forward, Indio pledged himself to one day find a way to destroy all the fatties in the world. His plan was simple: create a treat none could resist. On the surface, this plan was seemingly full of holes…so the fatties are given a treat. Then what? But Indio was devious, and his plan sound. The treat would be a doughnut, of infinite proportions, and he would let the fatties eat until they desired no more, which he knew was an event that would never occur until they exploded from overconsumption. He laughed at the irony of the consequences of creating his first, and only, doughnut, and secretly wished that Manuela would be the first one to take a bite.

Indio was old when I met him, but still vibrant with life. He told his story with a fire in his eye and anticipation on his lips. When I informed him of my similar disdain for fatties, he was not surprised, because who likes a fatty? However, he was overjoyed when I explained that I would like to make his dream a reality, and was willing to finance his endeavor. So, fatties, on November 6th at 12:57PM, I will make a post with the location of the Indio’s doughnut of death. Even having described the fate in store for you, and your inevitable destruction, there is nothing you can do to stop from eating the pastry. Nothing.

El Santo