Fat Sheep and Fat Frog Visit a Fat Farm

So, things are quieting down here, finally. And I mean that literally. Libby hasn’t puked since around midnight Friday morning. She has one of the oddest pukes I’ve ever heard. It’s not like your average “hhnnuuuggghh” sound followed by a sizeable splash in the toilet—or in the “vintage” piss pot, which is what she’s been using by the bed the last few days. Her ralph is like a deep, hacking cough followed by a tiny little splat of upchuck. It’s completely unsettling—even moreso than regular puking—and I think she should reconsider her method. . . .

Erm. OK, that first paragraph was Friday afternoon, and it is now Sunday afternoon. Forces have consistently conspired against me sitting down and getting something typed up. Libby is feeling better (but the cold Gabe and I are sharing seems to be settling in for some good, lung rumbling coughs and scratchy throats), which is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I don’t have to hear her puking or lying on the couch moaning “Mmmmmaaahh, Mmmmmmmaaahhh,” in a nearly quiet fashion (just quiet enough for everyone in the room to hear—she’s not much for suffering silently), but, since it's been pretty nice outside, she’s been insistent on “enjoying the weather.”

As I’m sure anyone who knows me is aware, I have very clear feelings on the outdoors. I am generally in favor of them existing. I like to know that they are out there, doing what they do best, and I approve of everything “outdoorsy,” in general, on a theoretical basis. I am not, however, the least bit interested in actually putting any outdoorsy theory to practical use. I prefer my air nicely climate controlled, thank you very much. I like just enough humidity to keep my skin from itching, and that’s plenty. I don’t like bugs of any sort, but especially the ones that touch me. And I hate the sun. It makes me sweaty.

Now, that’s not to say that I don’t appreciate the benefits of being outside. I do. I like having a healthy tan and knowing that my body is absorbing vitamin D. I like looking like I get exercise. I like having our yard look nice. I just don’t like that I have to go outside to do all these things. That’s all. It’s nothing personal.

So, anyway, we’ve been out walking the neighborhood, cleaning the yard, and playing with Gabe for most of the afternoon, so I haven’t been able to sit down, until now, to work on my next story. But I’m going to get as much done as I can and hopefully I’ll get it posted by Monday (because I will need Gabe’s help with the pictures and video, too, and he might not be available until Monday, when Libby’s back at work).

Fat Sheep and Fat Frog Visit a Fat Farm

The story begins with Gabe’s two morbidly obese dolls, Fat Sheep (a fat sheep) and Fat Frog (a fat frog), going for a jog around the room. Sadly, because they are so overweight, they can’t so much jog, or even walk, because their pudginess keeps their legs from properly touching the ground. So, instead, they waddle rather pathetically and very slowly from one place to another. While “jogging,” they have a deep and heartfelt conversation wherein they confront their demons and vow to lose the weight once and for all because they want to be skinny and pretty.

Ideally, we would have a skinny and pretty sheep and frog in the room so the chubby versions could fawn over them and be jealous, but we don’t, so I explained to Gabe that he would have to imagine that they were looking at the latest issue of “Attractive and Skinny Sheep and Frog Weekly” instead. Since they were supposed to be jogging when this all happened, I have to assume that they must have passed a newsstand. Or, more than likely, what really happened (and I must not have shared this with Gabe to save his feelings) was that a “concerned citizen” (ie. a total douchebag of a person) strolled up to them and handed them a copy of the magazine so that the obese couple could see the kind of lives they should be leading, and, more importantly, how they should look while living those lives.

A douchebag in a sweater confronts our portly protagonists with a health magazine, cleverly disguised as a "National Geographic" because I'm sure we've never had a health magazine anywhere in our house, ever.

However it happened, the pair became inspired to change themselves. We have to assume that the Fat Farm wasn’t their first choice. They must have tried and failed at a number of different fad diets and scam weight loss programs before finally biting the bullet and committing themselves to the inescapable rigors of constantly supervised, boot-camp style training and fitness regimes and closely scrutinized nutritional management. But we didn’t really get into that. I figured Gabe would get to hear Libby and I bitching quite enough as he grew up about how fat we are and how we need to stop eating crap so we can lose 20 pounds. There’s no need to start him down that road before he’s even two years old. I’m very considerate that way.

So, after much research (involving them finding the only Fat Farm in the room), they approach the Farm’s owner.

Bert's Fat Farm (get it? It's a farm because they are animals! It took me all morning to come up with that one).

The owner is played by Bert, and his name is Bert, but this isn’t necessarily Bert’s storyline. I preferred to think of it like Bert was only acting the role, or maybe this was a moonlighting job. Like when someone famous does a commercial for some terrible, terrible energy drink in Japan figuring nobody of importance will ever see the humiliating footage. That sort of situation assumes that Bert is, in fact, famous, which I’m not entirely committed to either. I do picture the owner of this Fat Farm as looking very much like a swarthy and smarmy mustachioed gentleman who looks very similar to Bert Reynolds circa 1978, but that might be a coincidence as I believe all fat farmers, like car salesmen, should have proper 70s mustaches all the time. So, perhaps, this was an early job of Bert’s, before he went on to be famous. Or, perhaps, this is what happened to him after he became a washed up has been. Or maybe this was just a story that Bert made up, and Fat Sheep and Fat Frog didn’t really exist. It’s impossible to say, but Bert is a player in this scenario, and the bottom line is that his owning a Fat Farm will almost certainly never play into his character again.

What followed was a series of harassment sequences, with Bert following closely behind his students, berating them into better shape.

Fat Frog "falling" victim to the most hated of all fitness activities, the rope climb. On the first go, the rope tangled in his eye stalk, so he can count himself lucky that having his foot wrapped up is a far better circumstance to be in.

Probably, and this is the confusing part, the role should have been played by R. Lee Emery (of “Full Metal Jacket,” brains splattering on the wall fame), and not by my swarthy, mustachioed Bert, but what can you do? This is a bedroom production, you just have to put up with the occasional serious continuity problem. However, I do Drill Sergeant impersonations as well as I do Foppish British Aristocrat, so don’t expect anything too spectacular on the video. (In fact, I tried to convince Gabe to do the poor impersonation instead, without much success.)

In the end, Fat Sheep and Fat Frog were unsuccessful in their attempts to slim down—because, really, what choice did they have? It’s not like I could unstuff them. They are as their small Chinese sweatshop children made them to be. And, presumably, they will learn to be happy with themselves as they are. A valuable lesson for everyone, I’m sure. And that’s what I’m here for, to teach. You’re welcome.

Video Note: We probably should have rehearsed a little. And I'll have to keep trying to get Gabe to say "maggot," just because that's pretty funny.