“I take a look and I know it ain’t me…”

I hear the deafening belch from the next two isles over.

I’m headed that way, regrettably.

 

 

When I ’round the corner, the perpetrator says:

“Mmm, delicious.”

She is 5’5”.

Easily 240lbs.

Draped in sweat–clothes.

Which is handy, since I’m guessing anything she does strains her to perspiration.

 

 

Her companion, a female with the same build and fashion sense, asks:

“What? Did you fart?”

“Nah. I burped.

Ah! A new Nicholas Sparks book!

He writes about me!”

 

 

Oh, my sweet beached manatee, there are many words written about you.

But none by Mr. Sparks.

I promise you that.

 

 

Ω

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