Attack of The Belly

Everyday on my way home, I drive by the same man. He has a perfectly round beer belly. It's so perfect he could be pregnant.

He's always out for a walk, well more of a waddle, really.

With his shirt off. Cringe

He displays his belly with pride; he even wears his shorts low. Unlike the slob in this picture, he doesn't pull the elastic waistband up and over it.

Pride.

I'd love to take a picture of him, but I'm afraid he'll realize what's going on and charge at my car.

Large belly jiggling, bouncing side to side, the effort of every running stride visible in the synchronized waving of his waddle and the frightfully determined look on his face...

It would seem that time had slowed down just so I could witness this behemoth of a man, in graphic detail, hurtling himself toward me. His battle cry coming out distorted and sounding like an orgasmic whale...

Only to slam into the side of my car like a sumo wrestler, rocking it like a toy boat in a bathtub, throwing me out of the driver's seat (despite wearing a seatbelt) and out the passenger side window, leaving me with barely enough time to roll out of the way of being squashed by my flipping-over-car...

Or he'll just think I'm weird cuz I'm sitting in a parking lot driveway holding up my cell phone in his direction and spacing out with a horrified look on my face.

On a side note: this morning I was greeted at the end of my street by a pair of humping squirrels. . .

It was another one of those 'what the fuck am I doing going to work?' moments.

If only I were a squirrel.

Check that out, he even has back up!