I won’t be trying to sell or otherwise solicit third-party publishing for this one…
Did you see the news today? They found that missing lady.
Yeah, that’s the one. Remember that I guy I used to tell you about who had the thing for–
Yep, yep. That guy is this guy. It’s the same dude. He’s the owner of Fatty Patty’s Diner.
I know, pretty creepy eh?
I recognized his picture.
No, I dumped his ass years ago. We only dated a few times. Good thing too. That poor girl.
The details? Yeah, pretty gruesome. All this time and I had no idea he was the owner. And of course no one had any idea of what he was up to, though surely the chef must have suspected something.
Yeah, many times we ate there.
No, I never had any idea. It never tasted the least bit strange.
Nope, none whatsoever. I just assumed he used bacon grease. Everyone did.
Wonder if they’ll revoke his five stars….snort….
They always say the stuff that tastes best is the worst for you. Guess that saying takes on a whole new meaning now, eh?
I don’t know. Apparently the evidence is pretty damning.
Something about what they found in the freezer at the restaurant.
I guess it started when he was a nurse for that plastic surgeon over on Oak? You know the one with the commercials for botox and lipo?
Yeah, that’s the one. Wonder if he knew what ol’ Marvin did with his bio-waste? Heh-heh-heh.
I know, pretty nauseating? But if he’d stopped there, probably nobody would have known or really cared all that much, and even if we did know, we could have written it off to some weird fetish.
Well if I’d known, I certainly would have stopped eating there.
Oh yes I would have. I do have some ethics even if my taste buds don’t.
I know. I know. That poor woman.
I wasn’t that fat.
No, I wasn’t. I was packing an extra thirty or forty back then, nothing like the women he dated after me.
Marvin’s what we called a chubby chaser but I guess he didn’t just want chubby women with good taste, he wanted chubby women who tasted good.
I know. I know. I shouldn’t joke.
No. Not a bit. He was always pretty thin, but he had these beady little eyes. You know, in hindsight, I think I knew there was something not quite right about him. I’ve always been told I have a touch of ESP.
Well, I’m not that good.
Maybe it was just for self-preservation purposes.
When we crash in the Andes, you are more than welcome to my thighs. They’ll sustain you through the winter for sure.
Haha, very funny. Those little chicken wings of yours wouldn’t even make a decent appetizer.
Alright, alright, maybe with some buffalo wing seasoning and some ranch dipping sauce.
I’d need at least two of them! But I’d rather eat your tookus. Throw that baby in the crock pot on low for a few hours, maybe add a few root vegetables and you’d be quite the rump roast feast.
Don’t you dare tell—
I told you not to say anything—
Okay. What’d he say then?
Oh ga-ross!!! Tell him I said he can keep his huevos rancheros. There wouldn’t be enough hot sauce in the world to make those gnarly ol’ things edible. Ick…I think I just thew up in my mouth.
Ha ha. Tell him I said he could have my right boob. Milk, it does a body good. Snort…
Well you married him. I just tolerate him cause you love him, though I’ll bet his calves grilled and basted in barbeque sauce might yield a tolerable meal.
Yeah, you can tell him I said that.
So where you want to eat tonight?
Cuban sounds perfect. I heard they just got a fresh raft of ‘em in the other day. You don’t get free range Cuban that often and being a little water-logged only makes ‘em juicier.
Ok, meet you there. Hurry though cause there’s usually a line.