Mr. Eagle Tatoo (let's call him E.T., shall we?) looked me up and down; then, after a dramatic pause, side to side as well. I grimaced, knowing that my bulk squeezed into this fitted PVC motorcycle outfit couldn't be all that attractive. Well, I've always been partial to a good racing stripe, even if it stretched down both of my massive thighs in an oddly curving, unsightly manner.
"Never seen 'ehhrrghhh..."
E.T. then emitted what could only be described as a lengthy, completely unhealthy croak, then collapsed unceremoniously to the floor beneath me. The floorboards rattled with the impact. He contorted briefly, wheezing once, then... nothing. I watched him for a moment, noticing sawdust covering one side of his face. A slow trickle of drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth, pooling on the flooring below.
Was he breathing? I couldn't tell.
"You've killed him, you huge ninny!" The voice behind me squealed like an inbred mouse about to be trampled by a team of angry rodeo clowns.
"Give me a minute. I asked for five minutes, right? Now shut up for a second."
I tried to crouch down, then, but quickly realized that it wasn't going to work as I ran into my own rolls of fat. This is highly inconvenient. Whose idea was this, anyway? This unfortunate obesity was quickly becoming a problem. It also wasn't doing much for my looks. I tsked under my breath and snapped my fingers twice in rapid succession.
Much better, I thought to myself.
"Hey, that's not fair! You were supposed to be the fat one this time. We made a deal!" A heavy, vaguely frustrated stamp echoed on the wooden slates of the bar's flood behind me. Much louder than it would have been a few seconds before, I noted. Sounds like someone gained 300 pounds in a hurry.
I glanced down at my newly-lithe body, PVC looking much more shapely as the racing stripe meandered gracefully down my slim, well-defined calves. I flexed once, delighted at the ripples of muscle that danced along my limbs. Yes, this is much better.
"Be quiet and let me see what's going on."
E.T. lay at my feet, disheveled and pale. What to do?