Fatass

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Watch the Sky Media - Mystery, Crime & Horror


A deliciously funny tale of revenge.

Submitted: November 22, 2017

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Submitted: November 22, 2017

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  Here’s the story of a real fatass named Ernie Beck. And when I say fatass, I’m taking a real fat fuck here. A real fat pile of dog shit that weighed in at 620 the last time his industrial strength scale was unfortunate enough to be pinned beneath him. In high school he was a chubby little bastard, but now, holy shit.

  I first saw him five weeks ago when I had to deliver food to him in his shitbox apartment that he can’t even leave. He’s trapped here until they either cut out the wall, or someone heaves him up through a window and figures out a way to get him down four stories without causing shockwaves.

  Like I said, a real fuckin fatass.  More calories in his stomach than there are in the grocery store. Took a picture of him last Christmas and it’s still printing.

  He still doesn’t recognize me as I unload all the groceries he ordered into his fridge. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have recognized him either had it not been for his name on the order form.

  Ernest Beck.

  Fuckin’ lardo. If he had a car, it would be the first car ever with stretch marks.

  I hated this tub of shit in high school. He was so weak and pathetic that you just had to pick on him. You know the type. If you try to say you never picked on a kid like this then I’ll either call you a liar, or a pathetic tub of shit.

  Being that fat and pathetic just begged people to make fun of him and make his life a living hell…so, that’s exactly what I did.

  I remember this fat little twerp had a huge crush on some nerdy bitch that I didn’t give a shit about because I was way more popular than her, but ya know what I did? I asked that dorky little twat to the prom just to watch him suffer. And suffer he did. Just to add a little salt to the wound, I banged her that night then never bothered to talk to her again. Then I told everyone what a slut she was until it got so bad she had to switch schools.

  So, I know you’re asking, what the hell is the point of this story. Right? Well, let me tell you what this fucking cow did to me in high school? You ready for this?

  He snitched!

  Yeah, he went and cried to the principal and told her how I was treating him and wah wah wah. I got suspended. Suspended! For what? For calling a fatass a fatass? Give me a break.

  I was warned to never do it again or there would be more serious consequences. But whatever. I was pissed. When I got back to school I treated him even worse and that fat bitch snitched again and I got expelled! You believe that shit?

  And look at me know. Delivering groceries in the city for minimum wage.

  But it’s all going to work out for me because it’s time for my revenge. If he recognized me he would probably order his huge packages of meat and snacks from a different store, so it’s good that he doesn’t remember.

  It’s taken me a few weeks to figure out exactly what I’m going to do, but I think I’ve got it now. If I smother him is anyone really going to notice? Some fat pile of shit that can’t even fit through the door died in his home…big shock! No one would suspect foul play and certainly no one would waste time or money on an autopsy.

  It’s pretty much the perfect crime.

  I’m loading all his wrapped meat into the fridge while his body is at a 45-degree angle on his poor sofa, watching the Game Show Network. I can hear grunts, groans and wheezes and I know without having to look that he’s trying to get up on his giant baked-potato feet. He’s walking towards the kitchen and how the floor doesn’t give out and send us all crashing into the apartment below, I’ll never know.

  “All loaded up,” I say to him as I close the fridge door.

  “Thanks,” he says. “I really appreciate the service.”

  “Yeah, no problem. That’s what I’m here for.”

  He slides open the window in the kitchen and drops a bag of trash out. A second later I hear a clang. The bag landed directly below in the alley dumpster. That’s how he gets his trash out of here. He gets his food delivered and drops his trash out the window, that’s two questions answered, but I have no idea how he washes himself. God, I don’t think I want to know. Something tells me this guy hasn’t seen his dick in years, too. His legs are brown and look like burnt logs. How this fat fuck is still alive behooves me.

  “So, I’ll see ya next time?” I say making my way to the door.

  He’s dangling some small pieces of meat out the window and tossing them gently into the alley. I can hear the cats meowing as their feast arrives. “Yes,”
he says, then turns towards me, blocking out the entire window behind him. He’s already out of breath.

  Fat fuck. Needs a cheat code to play Wii Fit. Could make a fortune selling shade in the summertime.

  “Alright,” I say, “I’ll see ya next week then.”

  And that’s it. Next week I’m going to do the world a favor a smother the life out of this fat, worthless drain on society. I’ll deliver his meat, I’ll put it away for him like always, and then I’ll do it.

  Then I’ll walk out of there like I do every other week and nobody will be the wiser.

  A week later my arms are loaded with wrapped meat. It’s a bigger order than usual, but who cares. It’s all going to go to waste.

  I let myself in which is usual procedure, but this time I lock the door behind me. Can never be too careful.

  “Got your order. Having people over this week or something?”

  He’s getting to his feet again. It’s quite the ordeal. “No,” he mumbles, “just stocking up. “

  I smile, nod. Mr. Friendly right here. I take my time unloading because I need this tub of shit to get back on his sofa. Once he does, I’ll grab a pillow and get my revenge.

  My head is in the fridge, stacking all the meat. I don’t even hear him come up behind me.

  “Benny,” he says, and I turn around before it even dawns on me that he knows my name. I turn on basic instinct. He says, “You think I don’t recognize you?” I don’t even have time to defend myself before a bone from a leg of lamb crushes my skull. I drop like a bag of wet cement.

  Let me tell you something kinda funny about dying. As soon as it happens, you leave your conscious state and you become an observer. It’s actually quite confusing because the lights go out and suddenly you are watching a movie- a movie featuring your former body slumped on the floor, dead as can be.

  That fat son of a bitch just murdered me. He murdered me! That’s not how it was supposed to go!

  It still hasn’t exactly hit me yet, it’s still as though I’m watching a movie. The only thing I can think about is that he’ll never get away with this. He can’t leave the apartment because he’s too fucking fat, and what’s he going to do with my body? Drop it into the alley and hope he hits the dumpster.

  Fat chance.

  Get it?

  Pretty sure someone would notice a body in the dumpster. This fat bastard done fucked up. There is no escape now, you porkpie fuck!

  He’s struggling to bend over to grab my body.

  Tub of shit. Loved his chin so much he added eight more.

  He’s breathing so hard I hope he has a heart attack and keels over right here in front of me.

  He drags me to the bathroom, through the extra wide door, and after some huffing and puffing, finally gets me into the bathtub.

  No escape, dude. People are going to come looking for me very soon. When I don’t report back into the store, it’s not going to take long to figure out where I am. This asshole has fat clogging his brain if he thought he’d get away with this one.

  He finds my phone, turns it off, and then smashes it on the tile. He strips me then turns the water on to soak my body. I’m not sure exactly where he is going with this until I see him pull out the saw. He’s sawing through my left leg at the knee. He’s so drenched in sweat he’s wetter than my body in the tub.

  Keel over and die you fat fuck!

  He’s gotten both legs off at the knee now and has started on my arms. I’m shocked at how well he is doing. He’s panting like a homeless dog, but he’s getting the job done.

  Two hours later and I’m completely disassembled in the tub and my clothes are folded nicely on the bathroom floor. Ernie makes his way to the kitchen, opens the fridge and begins removing the meat I loaded up earlier. He’s dropping the meat out the window and the cats are going crazy down below.

  He waddles back to the bathroom, grabs two of my leg pieces, rinses them clean then returns to the kitchen where he wraps them in the packing paper the meat came in. He puts my legs in the fridge. He does this with all of my parts except my head, feet and hands. He puts my head into an old brown potato bag and, you guessed it, drops it in the dumpster. My feet, toes, hands and fingers go down the garbage disposal, ground to dust and washed away.

  His fridge is loaded with my parts. The only thing left out is my right arm, shoulder to elbow. He turns the oven on and removes a baking dish from the cabinet. He puts my arm in the dish and begins rubbing butter over my skin, followed by garlic and various other herbs.

  This is how he is going to dispose of my body. Son of a bitch.

  The police come to the door when my arm has been baking for forty-five minutes. Fatass Ernie has changed his clothes and buried his old ones, along with all my clothes, under a pile of trash and dropped the bag out the window.

  Two uniformed officers are standing at the door when the sweaty bastard finally gets over there to answer it. They ask Ernie if I had been there and Ernie says yes. They then inform him that I am missing and Ernie seems really concerned.

  Big fat liar.

  One look at this bulging fatso would make him the least likely murder suspect in the world, but the cops really do need to investigate anyway, even though this isn’t even a murder case yet. They come inside and Ernie opens the fridge, showing the officers all the wrapped meat filling it. “Yeah,” Ernie says, “he delivers my meat every week. He was just here earlier today. He loaded me up. See?”

  The officers take a peek in the fridge and see all the perfectly wrapped cuts of meat. “You cookin’ some of that right now?” one of the officers asks.

  “Yeah. A roast. You gentlemen hungry?”

  The two cops share a glance. They probably are hungry but the thought of sharing a meal with this tub of lard probably makes them sick. “No, we just ate,” the other officers lies. “Thanks for the offer though. Smells delicious.”

  “We’re just going to take a look around real quick if you don’t mind, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “No problem,” Ernie says, “please excuse me not joining you.” He gives them a look that says, Hey I’m fat.

  The officers smile and make their way into the bedroom which hasn’t been used in who knows how long, then through the double wide door into the bathroom, which reeks of the bleach he used to clean my mess up with. Apparently this doesn’t strike the officers as out of the ordinary, because they exit the bathroom as quickly as they entered, and for the first time since I got hit with that bone, I’m starting to realize my situation.

  I’m fucking dead!

  This fatfuck killed me.

  And worse of all, he’s going to get away with it!

  The officers check all the places a person could be hiding, but there aren’t many. From the alley, I hear the beeping of a large truck backing up. I peek out to see a man jump from the back of a garbage truck and move the dumpster into position for the truck to pick it up. If my body were in there, he would have seen it. Unfortunately, all he sees is an old potato sack and lots of trash bags.

  The dumpster is loaded onto the long arms of the truck and lifted. My head disappears. When the dumpster is unloaded back into the alley, the man in the coveralls wheels it back into place, making sure it is located directly under Ernie’s window. He’s obviously knows about ol’ Fatass Ernie.

  Back in the apartment, the cops are apologizing this fat cow! They’re actually apologizing to my murderer for wasting his precious time!

  The cops leave, no doubt crossing Ernie off their list. As of right now, I’m simply a guy who didn’t return to work and who hasn’t answered his phone in a while. There will never be a body to be discovered because when Ernie finished eating my fucking arm, he broke my bone apart into shards and dropped some down the disposal and some were fed to the cats. All trace of my arm has vanished and now I’m off to what I’m guessing will be my final destination. Where that is, I have no idea, but I’m about to find out.

  Just as I’m starting to fade away, Fat Ernie turns the oven back on and grabs my other arm from his fridge.

  Fucking fatass.

 

A note from the author:

Hi! I have a new book out called Camp McClane! It's a throwback to the glorious horror movies of the 1980's. It would mean a lot to me if you checked it out. It's on Amazon and not very expensive. Thanks! : )



© Copyright 2017 Grant Fieldgrove. All rights reserved.

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