30 in 30 Poetry Edition Day 2: Conversation with a fatass.

Why yes, I will have another Baconator, you’re so polite.
I’m really feeling that last KFC gravy shot.
Do you mind if I wipe the grease off on your cat?
You do? Well then. I’ll be on my way.

I find the nicotine rush is much more intense when I stick a cigarette up each of my nostrils.
I am the Marlboro dragon, with the power of emphysema.
Kind sir, will you light the cigarettes stuck in my ears? I cannot reach them without singing my hair.
You won’t? Well then. I’ll be on my way.

You know what cuts down the burn after Tequila shots? Bath salt snooters.
Those crafty cats at the labs just keep evading the law.
If it’s legal, it’s gotta be okay. God knows the Government is watching out for my health.
I feel fucking fantastic. Excuse me miss, I’ll give you twenty bucks if you’ll let me chew your nose off.
No? Maybe an ear? No? Well then. I’ll be on my way.

What the fuck do you mean I can’t have a large Coke with my Double Down?
The great state of New York thought I was responsible enough to own and carry the pistol that is currently dangling from my middle finger.
Maybe Bloomberg is afraid it’ll keep me up past my bedtime.
Maybe I offend him with my chubby existence.
I think we can all agree, this is the most important step to making me skinny.
Oh, I can still grab a Big Gulp? Sixty-seven ounces of Coke for a dollar? Later.
I used to drink 20 ounce Pepsis, now I only buy Big Gulps. Triple the volume for 30 cents less! Thanks Mayor.

I can see you know best how to keep me healthy.