I occasionally like finishing my nights out with a fat boy special. Often this coincides with the time day-walkers are out for breakfast. This is an account of such a situation.

* * *

"Sir, there's a huge queue forming behind you, please just take your burgers."

"Listen to me Corky, I'm not budging until you dip these burgers in the French fry oil."

"It's against regulations to do that, sir."

"I'm calling your bluff, Corky. I wanna see the McDonald's safety regulations."

Usually, people working morning shifts at Mickey D's are docile and most customers are there for breakfast. They will avoid confrontation as soon as they smell the alcohol on your breath. Corky is no exception.

"And Corky, gimme a Coke Zero… I'm on a diet."

The place is full. It seems I will have to sit next to a stranger and educate him on the fat way of life. It's about time I gave back to the community. I sit at the nearest table and am soon satisfied by my choice. This man clearly needs my help.

"Let us first express our indebtedness to the capitalist pricing system, my brother. A fat man's reason is often obstructed by his gluttony. It can thus become difficult to choose food that will maximize our caloric intake. Fortunately, price can act as a proxy for fat content. As a rule of thumb, we ought to order the most expensive items on the menu and then show our gratitude by putting our sausage fingers together and praying to the supply and demand curves. Amen."

I get the impression my potna is not following. What sort of Godless creature have I sat next to?

Don't let McDonald's dictate when you can or can't have breakfast or lunch. It's time for the FUTURISTIC BRUNCH.
"But enough with spirituality, it's time for some hints and tips. After all, your arteries won't clog themselves. First, regardless of the magnitude of the challenge, you have to remain positive. The fat man can. The trick is to make sure your stomach doesn't have time to realize you're full. Forget what your mamma told you about chewing and try to funnel as much food down your throat as possible. The grease will work as a lubricant."

This is not working. Surely he will succumb to a practical demonstration. I devour my four burgers and pause for the round of applause. His face reflects no sign of interest whatsoever. Philistine.

Just as I'm about to order dessert, in a vain final attempt to enlighten this scrawny soulless beast, my date calls. I had abandoned her half an hour earlier to follow my true calling in life.

"Where are you?"

"Mickey D's."

"You left me to go to McDonald's?

"Woman, the Botticelli look is having a comeback. I can't get fat on air. Gotta stay ahead of the times."

"You've got some nerves."

"You can pop by my place to rub my belly once I'm done….. Hello?"

Women seldom understand the joys of fat. The drama has spoiled my appetite. I need a change of scenery.

As I walk past the golden arches, I catch a glimpse of a fellow muncher puking his guts out. That is an insult to the fine chefs of McDonald's. Better keep on moving before I am associated with such scum. My motive was noble, but I committed a fatal mistake: walking under that sun is making me burn some hard earned calories, and that defies all I stand for. Note to self: get a Segway or a Rascal.

A cab ride and some prosciutto-wrapped meatballs later, I start feeling the need to drop some Ethiopian babies. Holding it in burns calories and a seasoned fat man never commits the same mistake twice. I'm about to give my toilet that military-brown paint job, when, to my dismay, I realize there are no magazines in sight! God forbid that I bring uneducated feces into this world. The very least I can do is have my doodoo aware of what's on TV this week.

I scan the perimeter for a few minutes, to no avail. I'm forced to betray my principles and sit down with a Game Boy. But it's too late. The Ethiopian twins have settled in my stomach and there is no way to reason with them. The audacity! All I can do now is sleep and hope that this is nothing some espresso on my morning sugar dose won't fix.