The Hose

Evil

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm just a chubby kid at heart. There are periods in my life when I'm not actually chubby, like in 8th grade where thanks to a growth spurt, I got taller much faster than I got wide, which conveniently stretched me thin. But that didn't last long. And last year, where for no good reason at all, I decided to train for and eventually run a marathon. (Hey, it was a down year.) But here I am now, 20 pound heavier in the time since. When I go pee, I sometimes lift my shirt and rub my round belly a little, just to pass the time. Once it gets a little bigger, I'll be able to rest my arms atop my belly; it'll be like a shelf of sorts. I saw this fat guy do it once and it immediately occurred to me that not having to carrying around the weight of one's arms is Very Convenient indeed!

The main reason why my steady state gravitates toward chubbiness is my inability to eat like a reasonable person. (Some have suggested that the real reason for my chubbiness is Depression, but those are Bad People!) It's especially hard for me because there's always food around the office. We have a makeshift kitchen where I work, so each day, food is brought in and today, we had the best lunch ever because it involved trays and trays of homemade cupcakes! The trays looked endless, with a dozen cupcakes to a tray, all neatly lined, looking moist and soft and overflowing with frosting. For every pair of cupcakes I saw, I had the hardly-controllable urge to go bury my face in between them.

For lunch I was reasonable and had one cupcake. At 1pm, I took a walk to the kitchen to see how many cupcakes were left. There were dozens. I hovered over them, but I didn't take any. At 4pm, I went to visit the cupcakes again. I took a slow stroll pass them and walking in the opposite direction, I noticed a chubby female co-worker doing the same thing! I flashed her a look of disdain, as if to say, Control Yourself, Woman. Show Some Self Respect! I didn't take a cupcake during that visit either, but while walking back to my desk, I did swipe three little bags of Raisinettes and boy were they good.

By 8:30, the office had nearly emptied out... just the usual crew of evening folks around. I bet those people IM the whole fucking day away because why else would they still be at work so late. I sure as hell know that's why I'm there. One guy calls me over to show me a video of him and his friends doing Karaoke this past weekend and I say "Hey, that's cool" but in a way that makes it unambiguously clear to all parties that I really meant to say, "You, sir, are a toolbox." I walk away and decide that I need to pee.

Walk. Walk. Walk. (Toward the bathroom.) Walk. Walk. Walk. DAMMIT! Cleaning lady in the bathroom. Door is blocked off. I can't go pee. Have to go to another floor. OOOOOH. But wait. What is this I see? Sitting peacefully and majestically on the table next to the bathroom is 4 cupcakes -- that is, 4 Perfect Cupcakes -- and they are calling my name. Without thinking, as if overtaken by the chubbiness instinct, a cupcake falls into my clutches and in an instant, I am devouring it. But then -- in an instant and a half, as I'm walking back to my desk with half a cupcake in paws and half a cupcake stuffed in my mouth, I have almost an out of body experience and I see the image of myself as I just described and suddenly I am burdened with Heavy Guilt. I want to cry, but in just another half instant I realized the bigger picture of what just happened...

The cleaning lady. The 4 cupcakes on a plate, right outside the bathroom (not in the kitchen). Those were HER cupcakes! This is a woman who makes $20,000 a year cleaning toilets and she's probably bringing cupcakes home to her kids for all I know, just as a little treat, you know?, because those were damn good cupcakes and there I go, stealing one of her cupcakes and for no good reason, except that I couldn't control myself. The seriousness of the situation settled in quickly. The half of that cupcake still in my paws got stuffed in my mouth, extra quick. I shuffled back to my desk. With pressed shirt sleeves, I wiped my mouth and with much urgency, at that. I sat down. I started to type. When the cleaning lady is done with the bathroom, she will at some point come over to my desk. She will empty the garbage can under my desk. She will smile at me. I will smile back, politely, as if nothing had ever happened.