An American hero, that’s what you are.
You live your life to the fullest and don’t take no for an
answer, unless the question being asked is “would you like to stop eating
nachos ever” in which case the answer is a resounding “NO!” possibly preceded by a fuck. You’re an inspiring figure and an amazing
person in general, physiological terms.
See, you’re also over four hundred pounds and still somewhat
ambulatory. This is super uncommon. And, to boot, you can perform basic tasks, like
eating nachos, that are normally impossible for people as absurdly obese as
you. Despite these “miracles of nature,”
your doctor, and several other doctors you’ve gone to, have told you in no
uncertain terms that if you continue to eat nothing but nachos and refuse to
exercise you’re going to die very soon.
You’ve told them all to crawl up their flippin’ butts
because you’re American and Americans can do whatever they want and never die,
says so right there in the constitution and you should read it and in case you
haven’t read it here it is somewhere out there on the internet free country ain’t
my job to make sure you can read the constitution OBAMA 2016!
Anyhow, following that outburst you’re going to eat a plate
of “muchos nachos” from Pizzeria Uno.
They won’t be the best, or the worst nachos you’ve ever eaten. But they will be nachos, and therefore
acceptable food.
About halfway through the plate you’ll start to breathe
heavily. Your arm will begin aching, a
shooting pain will arc up your bicep and into your chest. Your vision will begin to blur and the world
will explode in agony as air fails to reach your blood and brain and your
heart, ever the quitter, stops beating.
“GAH!” you’ll moan before pitching face-first into your
plate of nachos. You’ll endure minor abrasions
from the chips, but the real killer will be the heart failure that caused you
to pitch into the nachos. Doctors will
arrive on the scene and pronounce you dead within minutes, then quietly wait
for ten strong men and a forklift to transport you out of the facility and
carry you to the morgue, where your hideous corpse can be fitted for the
grandest, most American coffin ever conceived.
During your funeral, scheduled less than a week from today
to keep you from stinking too bad, you’ll be eulogized as Timothy “Nacho Jones” Frankfort.
You’ll be remembered as having lived as we all wish we could: without
abandon, without restraint, without a second thought.
FUCKIN’ AMERICA!
Congratulations Nacho Jones!
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