* * *
Fat Larry is talking nonsense again.
Why is he always here?
(For that matter... why am I always here?)
Fat Larry is talking nonsense again...
... and he won't shut up.
Fat Larry has no neck... and drives a Corolla.
He has a funky piercing at the top of his ear...
and tattoos on his legs surrounded by psoriasis.
Fat Larry hates immigrants...
... and burns the sugar cube when he makes absinthe.
Fat Larry gives the wrong information about most things...
... and opinions on everything.
Fat Larry slurs his words...
... deep toned words...
... woody words...
... that trail as his jowl wiggles.
Fat Larry doesn't shut up. I try to tune him out... but even Scandinavian Death Metal at full-blast is not strong enough to cancel out Fat Larry.
Fat Larry ALWAYS gets whipped cream on his drinks.
Fat Larry always knows of something better than whatever you're talking about.
Fat Larry is constant.
He's always here.
He's always there.
He's always everywhere.
He's where you live right now, probably.
He's in every café in every town... in some form.
Fat Larry is what we've become...
As American as a third helping of apple pie...
... and a large waistline of ignorance.
* * *