03:53
I'm watching a bit of late night TV when I hear a loud splashing sound outside. A groan. Uuhhhh! Sounds like a hibernating bear rolling over in its sleep after a kick to the stomach. I de-slouch to look out. My jaw drops open in shock.
A big fat white tilted belly ripples in the middle of the road. It's like an obese whale has washed ashore on its back. An incredibly overweight young woman has fallen over on the Hill, drunk.
She is upside down, pointing the wrong direction. Her pin head is heading down the hill, the feet she hasn't seen for years point up.
Despite her excessive mass, she wears a relatively skimpy t-shirt which is probably a big top when you see it off, which I don't hope I ever do. Right now, it's pulled up, exposing her rippling corpus maximus to the sulphur yellow AM glare. It is as if a giant, unwanted waterbed has been thrown off the roof of Brown's Hotel. I'm flabbergasted, literally.
She must be twenty-three and near 230lbs. More. 280Lbs! She is easily the fattest creature I've ever seen this side of a Discovery channel documentary.
Prejudicially, I don't think she has got the brains or the muscle to get to her feet. I wonder what to do. If she's there all night wobbling, it'll be a predictable disaster.
Going down to try to lift her might seriously injure my back. She is huge. There is no way for me to move her. I couldn't even get my arms around her to lift her. If I call the emergency services they'll be out there for hours with their tenders and trucks, organising cranes, banging iron.
No. Only she can move her. I'm sorry, but I cannot help her. There is nothing I can do. Thankfully for my spinal cord, my disgust overrides any altruistic instinct. She has to help herself. In the biggest cop out of my blogging life, I opt not not to take my camera at this humiliating point. Stupid really as words to describe her heftiness sound like a tin drum.
I'm hypnotised and horrified by the grotesque fleshy folds and chasms. She still has no idea how she's going to stand up.
It is nauseating to watch her. Her position is such, it gives her head a longer arc to rise through. The solution I would posit here is to first turn-roll her legs out to the side until they are facing down the hill, her head facing up. This is because the head is normally the heaviest part of the human body. This simple assumption is precipitous because I underestimate her own bio engineering facility.
Her moon-lit, moon-like rear end which is radiating over large parts of the street against the laws of nature actually balances her tiny little head right up into an upright position against the declining angle. Suddenly she's sitting up. Relief counters my outright repulsion.
She's terribly drunk. She grasps her mobile, looking into it, puzzling over who to call to make it better. I hope a genie with really powerful magic lurks beneath her keypad somewhere. Turning over with vocal heaving, she manages to get to her knees and actually jumps up into a squat. Again, I'm surprised and ashamed. She's wearing green trousers and a black sleeveless tee, the gap in her bum cheeks yawns like the Port Tunnel.
Standing now, she wobbles. And when she wobbles she wavers. As she wavers she heaves. She lumbers down the road, ungraceful and slow. Her lamb-like right arm mixes various shades of bruising. It won't really hurt until the morning. Then it will really hurt, along with the everything else inside that she's feeding.
We're talking Ten Tonne Tessie here. Food consumption as a carbon sink. The worst thing about freaks, more than their physical deformity, the most frightening thing, is their loneliness.
Allow me to cop out here and say it's nothing personal against the girl. I just don't see how we can justify our society and allow that to happen. Would nobody say anything to her? Help her out? Not me. Someone kind.
09:00
1848 Desultory Famine-time Young Ireland rebellion in Tipperary suppressed by police after The Battle of Widow McCormack’s Cabbage Patch
