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Saturday, November 18, 2017

Dye it tips. RIGINAL.

by riginal (writer), moe australia, January 18, 2015

Dye it tips if you're feeling off color after reading so much crapola.

CRAP. riginal.

Dr.Eatnuff here. Author of C.R.A.P. (Curative Realistic Applied Persecution). In a nutshell, you are what you eat. But by reversing the trend of C.R.A.P. eating ie; Persecution Applied to Realistic Curative balanced eating you will be admired, nay, self admiring after reading my book.

Let's start with the Biblical. If God meant you to eat McDonalds he would have instructed Noah to store two of everything produced by Mac's in the boat's pantry. He didn't. Simply because he didn't want to upset the animals by offering for example, two pieces of chicken, two pieces of bacon, two beef burgers, two turkey legs, two fish fingers etc, for a flood of breakfast orders. This would have caused relatives of this produce to panic in disgust thus a relative mutiny would have caused too much aggro.

I could go on but i won't because eating your own kind is Noah near acceptable, indeed two distasteful, unless you kind of spice well.

Let me start at the beginning. A friend of mine couldn't stop eating. He became so large; an unkind person of which there are many in this world, remarked that if Billy had a propeller strapped to his arse he could with a run up, impersonate a blimp. A veritable hungry dirigible.

Billy wasn't depressed. He hadn't had a bad childhood, he just made up his mind he couldn't stomach people.

People were about the only things he couldn't stomach. Bill didn't order a large fries. He ordered a larder of fries. I invited Bill around to a function at my house. He ate the function. Started nibbling the house. To give my butler time to prepare another functional table of eats i placated the 50 or so guests. Telling them to, "knock yourselves out in the swimming pool." They did literally. Bill had drunk the contents of the salt based pool. I explained to Bill that salt was detrimental and could cause high blood pressure, scuffed arms and legs to the guests as a result of being dragged out of the pool.

Something had to be done. I started to read up on diets. I purchased a fat mouse, it seemed to have the same imbalance as human Bill.

I studied his genes. His father and mother's jeans were skinny. Bill rodent however wore beach shorts with an elastic band so comparison was almost a never ending expandable impossible route to pursue. Oh, don't get me wrong, i knew the physics of the body pertaining to man or mouse. The skin is basically an outer casing to stop food from falling out.

The arms and legs are motivation to seek food and or salt swimming pool contents. How in the hell could i help Bill and Bill?

Bill and Bill gradually became the best of friends, mainly because neither could stop eating. I would take B and B out to dinner in a diner. I went to the rest room after telling the B's not to start eating Willy Nilly...the waiter. An almighty horrendous noise. My worst fears realized. I opened the door of the Mens to utter devastation. Faced with an almighty Bill the voracious two had incurred. A quarter of the diner eaten.

The two repentant. Puffs of wallboard plaster. Belched chair fragments. A terrified Willy Nilly clutching the remaining sleeve on his suit coat.I bundled the shamefaced two into the back of my truck, paid for the damage, extra for the missing front door handle.

What to do? I tucked the pair into their ajacent beds. Read them a bedtime story of Hassle and Gutsall, a Hansel and Gretal modified story of a pair of absolute over eaters who ate a deserted town then complained that the roof tiles were causing their stomachs to grumble when the wind whistled under their eaves.

I looked at the pair snoring happily. No Teddy Bears or nite lights. They had a nightmare one night. Ate most of night away, the mare ran off. The Teddy Bear and nite lights vanished. What in the hell was i to do. Even if i could get the happy go lucky pair onto food only i dare not take them anywhere for fear of a furniture food fest wall revival.

300lb Bill had his arm around 600lb human Bill. The beds rocked gently in unison. That's when it hit me. The rocking bed end...an inspirational idea. Early the following morning i whispered in Bill rodent's ear, "pssst...pssst!" Bill scratched his whiskers,screwed up his snout, yawned. "i'm not pissed" he said blearily. "I want to talk to you" i grabbed Bill's paw. The 300lb lumbered to his feet, followed me out into the garden. Sat. Or rather, lolled. I explained my weight reducing idea. Tears welled in Bill's eyes. He agreed. We went back inside.

Morning broke. So did the bed. 600 lb Bill screamed in fright. He rolled out,fell on 300lb Bill. The mouse housemate didn't move. Rigid. I felt his whiskers. No pulse. I turned my head, nodded sadly at the distraught Bill. Rang the ambulance. They pronounced the overweight mouse dead as a result of broken bed head falling lead. 600lb of lard lead. Bill looked in at the open casket. The mourning mouse congregation listened solemnly to Bill's speech.I wondered if i had done the right thing? "My friend Bill never ratted on me, he took the blame for the missing Teddy's i ate. Nor did he arc up when i ate the hot wired nite lights which gave me night and day enlightenment." He started to cry. I hate it when the spark goes out of any life. The blameless mouse was Bill's only friend. They went through a lot together, diners, nightmares, Teddy Bears, nite lights, salt pool soda pop...i felt so sad. Bill continued.

"We had such fun, we ate, played, ate ate ate together,told jokes in bed, ate ate ate. Goodbye my friend. I ate to see you go. Bill sunk to the floor. The first time i had seen him depressed. It was a solemn after burial celebration. The mice ate cheesecake. Softly spoke of the fun and times the 300 lb mouse had. The day he tried to visit his mother. Came home with the house she lived in on the end of his nose. The day a farmer had set traps for the loveable mouse. Bill rocked up with his whiskers in trap rollers looking very stylish like a mouse about town in curlers.

I passed a plate of cheese to Bill, he pushed it away. "nnno thanks. If i wasn't so fat i wouldn't have crushed my friend..." i put my arm around part of Bill's shoulders. Bill wouldn't eat. He pined. Wouldn't eat pine, wallboard, roofing tiles, not even a short piece of tasty rusted guttering. Bill was down to 85 lbs when there was a knock at the door. Bill dragged himself over, looked through the curtain. Collapsed. There standing grinning at the door was his 40lb friend.

My idea had worked. The ambulance medi vac team, the burial priest mouse, the congregational mice, they were all there. The air conditioned coffin...all air. I explained to Bill that in order to lose his weight i had to do something i hated to do to two friends. A terrible way to do it but had i not, the alternative was death by misadventurous eating. I offered the joyous party party pies. The litmus test. Bill and Bill declined. The rest had a ball. After the happy group left, i threw a rug over the tired two. Trim taught terrific.

Look, what i did was drastic. Drastic measures as far as dieting goes when you read the utter CRAP on the net almost overwhelms mine. Obviously extremes in eating are depressive, but mostly you just need a good friend. The one in the mirror with the great personality is a good start. I mean at least you're not a 300lb mouse banned from running on the community mouse wheel. I have been eating out of a bar fridge for months. Obviously no good for a family. But it does instill discipline in that i used to buy good healthy stuff at first too much...i ended up having to eat a few days food because it would go off. I have a bigger fridge stored but i haven't bothered as yet. It's funny what you get used to.

I don't believe we need to eat ourselves silly. So if you're already silly look at the money you've saved! Moderation is a much vaunted word but i guess one person's moderation is another person's perception of moderate. Cheese!...sorry, cheers. I can always tell at the supermarket if a woman by herself is married by what's in her trolley. Bottles and bottles of soft drink. Bags and bags of chips. Choc biscuits, and the telltale sign. A kid or kids burying razor teeth into the sides of a bag of chips. Oops! i said a woman by herself. The kids carrying the 'extras' are coming up the aisle. They're hard to resist aren't they? The chips in moderation...and the kids! Eatnuff? :>)

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About the Writer

Bio...bioio...daylight come an i wanna go home. Come missa tele man tele me banana. A banana tele? Seriously would like to hook up with other comedy writers to engage.
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