True Sh*t

Stirring cowboy music fills the room...
 
My name is Fattie Ross and I want to tell you a story, a story about poor choices and revenge, obesity and redemption.

It started with my pa, who was bed-ridden with diabetes and other obesity-related illnesses.

I went to town to hunt down the one man who I reckoned could help my pa... Blueben “Booster” Blogburn.

Luckily, I found him in the town's only building, the saloon/general store/pilates studio.

After laying out my poor daddy's situation, I asked Blogburn if he figured he could help.

“Tell me somethin', little girl.” “Does your pa have Internet access?” asked Blogburn, grittily.

“This is the Old West, dumbass,” I replied, and that... well, that was when all Hell broke loose.

“Pisa Sh*t!” said Jack. “How many times have I told you about using the "D" word.”

“Diarrea?”

“Okay, we're gonna have to take this entire production from the top,” said my dad. “Cue the stirring cowboy music...”

“Wait a minute, Dad,” I said. “It's a brand new year and there are a bunch of people coming to this site for the first time. They're looking for a little help getting going on their weight-losing dealios.”

“Well, yeah, but...”

“You need to get back to providing useful information, helpful tips or just tell folks about how you lost all that weight.”

“Yeah,” my father exclaimed with that wild-eyed grin of his. “And I know just what we can call it...”

“Dad, please... don't...”

"True Sh*t!” he yelled, following it with a throaty yodel.

“Geez,”  I said under my breath. “What a dumbass...”