Fatty In Training

As anyone familiar with the Zan-Man knows, despite my tall, slender frame, I am destined to be one hell of a lard ass one day. I am a future guest on a daytime talk show special titled "Help Me! My Skin Doesn't Fit Anymore!", but I am fortunate enough during my twenties to be trapped inside the body of a 6'4" asshole with the body shape of a Somalian suffering from anorexia.

I have revolting eating habits. Why today alone, I've consumed 3 chocolate donuts, a banana, cereal, and a yogurt, before I even left my apartment. This was followed by a slice of pizza with two toppings, a large helping of chicken and rice from a food truck on Wall Street, and there's always the possibility that I will have to satisfy my craving for a ridiculously over-sized chocolate milkshake before I pass out in a food coma at the end of the day. Sometimes, I eat so much, so fast, that I actually have trouble breathing and have to take a 30 second break to clear my air passages.

I am regularly referred to as "Chubs" and "Fatty Fatty Fat Fat" by enemies and friends alike, and I don't mind, because it's really just training for the day when I am as wide as I am tall, and have to be rolled from room to room in a hospice somewhere in rural Pennsylvania, after they've removed an entire wall from my Brooklyn apartment building just so the crane can hoist me out onto a waiting flatbed truck.


At this point, I'm not even sure what my original goal was with this post, but I do want to take this opportunity to introduce you all to the greatest thing my eyes have ever beheld:

The Hot-Dog-Rollup.

If anyone here gets a chance to eat one of these before I do, I want details, damnit.