Fatty Fell Down

Fatty fell down. They all saw and laughed. It's somehow funnier watching a weighty comet fall to earth. Even fatty agreed with that particular notion. Dusting himself off he cloaked his dignity cape around him like some sort of perverse Superman gone awry.

Onward he waddles, onward to his destination, onward to stock up on supplies for the self imposed winter night gathering pace all around him.

He sees people but they don't see him. They look through him like so much glass at the front of a building - as if they're checking their own reflections instead of another human being. Eye contact minimal, embarrassed looks away from some, aggressive judgement and stares from others. Sometimes he even entertains the notion of falling deliberately or screaming at the top of his voice just to see the expressions on their faces change. He never does, though. The dignity strand unbroken, the anger still there, boiling in his stomach awaiting an impotent, unsatifying fate. How can you loathe something so much and yet yearn to be part of it at the same time?

Looks now. More judgement. You reap what you sow, my friend. And just look at your fields now. Surveying his fields in a window he passes, fatty agreed, how could he not.

Out of the store and back the short distance to his hiding place he starts thinking about the stairs of his apartment once again. The gradient seeming to grow ever steeper on every trip out to restock supplies. It's a lie, of course. He knows it but somehow the denial overwhelms the logic once more. And as he ponders on this, he fails to see the small dog tied up to a lamp-post just in front of him.

Fatty fell down again. They all saw and laughed again. The dog was ok. This show never gets old. Nothing to see here.

See you tomorrow, folks!