“You diseased Lardvaark! You pathetic Mayo-dumpster Heffalump! O’ great Brimley! Supreme God of the Beetus take your hideous feet!”
We trudged up the hill. I had taken eight full days off of running due to a pulled if not torn groin-slash-hamstring. I had to rest it, I had no choice.
“You do realize that Fat People Hate on Voat is satire, correct? 95% of the people who write there realize that it’s satire and only a few people take it seriously. It’s really about the destruction of free speech in our society and pushing the limits. Only about 5% are really that demented. It’s straight out of Vonnegut.”
The first mile was atrocious. I started well, but I got a twinge of pain, so I had ‘slown’ down considerably.
“Fats have lower brain function, so your grease goblin mind can’t comprehend with your fat logic, you shit-covered diaper-wearing Obeast.”
The hills seemed to undulate through the ancient hill-country, first steep down, which ‘led’ to steep up. The groin pull hadn’t worsened, so I was ginger with it. Our two-mile time was bad. I decided to do only a 3.1 mile run even through I was already 9 miles behind for the month.
“Running with you is tortuous, but you do have an awesome body. You really need a life. Why don’t you find a real boyfriend? Get on with your life. Finish your Masters degree. Don’t you find it pathological that you are hanging out with someone twice your age?”
“Why don’t you stop being a hamplanet butter beast grease golem? Why don’t you make love to me? Why don’t you fill me with your hot 5p3rm? You owe me you disgusting slob with your shit-covered 23 BMI and your 13% body fat? You should weigh 172 for 21.5 BMI.”
Peace be the Botendaddy