My friends and I were drinking ourselves stupid on Saturday night in a club when we saw ‘it’. ‘It’ was big… ‘it’ was bad… ‘it’ was nasty. The very sight of ‘it’ alone could induce glaucoma and render most blokes blind before the age of 30. Thanks to our strong, healthy and athletic bodies, we survived without any complications by looking at the sordid creature.
So what was ‘It’? ‘It’ was a 300 pounds worth of flesh on a blimp chick who trudged by our table and knocked off hundreds of innocent teenagers that was in her way. She then settled down at the table in front of ours with her bunch of friends– which made us shudder at the very thought of her trying to fit into the space of the packed club.
Spotted with a semi BARE-BACK sleeveless black blouse, the amount of lards she exposed was shockingly unbelievable. And her face, was literally painted with make-up so thick… that it could be scraped out again to be used to degrease bowling balls. A total walking disaster. A mountain of cholesterol. A planet of grease. Whatever. It was a sight to behold.
It wasn’t long before the music she loves came blasting from the loudspeaker… and she fucking DANCED! The stomps of her corpulent & porky leg rippled the lards on her excessively fat body. The waves of fat can be seen reverberating across her bloated skin… almost like a loose piece of bouncing balloon filled with liquid grease. The sight was so horrifying that half the population of the pub actually puked… and flooded the dance floor with 1 foot thick of gelatinous goo and stomach linings… while the other half actually attempted to commit suicide. Alright, I made the last part up… but really, I was surprised that didn’t happen.
The fat piece of tumor continued to dance skankily throughout the night, as if she was there to work out in a gym. I can tell that blimp was out that night to burn a lot of fat – she knocked down countless amount of stools that night, and god knows how many glasses were broken. She is one creature that ultraman doesn’t cover in his anti-monster policy.
“Eh, that tuak pooi char bor happening eh?” I quipped to the girls in my group, hoping to get some interesting conversation out of the horrifying view. Surprisingly, the girls admired her strength and stamina to party… and hooted me to hell for calling her names. Almost at the verge of gouging my eyeballs out.
I realized by then, that ‘it’ had taken the mind of our girls… hypnotizing them with her dance of death to conspire against their boyfriends by becoming a physical outcast like her, and make the world a less wonderful place to live. That fucking tuak pooi char bor.