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A t one time every dieter in the city took a lively interest in the gorging artist; from day to day of his gluttony the thrill increased; everybody wanted to see him at least once a day; some people bought their season tickets from Oprah, a former gorger who lost weight with a little help from Overeaters Anonymous and SlimFast and took turns sitting in front of his large self-contained habitat.
On clear days, the self-contained habitat was set outside when it was the dieters’ special treat to gawk at the gorging artist; for their adversaries he was often regarded as a joke that happened to be in fashion, but the dieters stood-open mouthed, clutching their Chocolate, Strawberry, and Vanilla SlimFast Shakes tightly in their chubby fists. They marveled at him sitting in his worn, maroon La-Z-Boy jovial in a white undershirt and a pair of plaid boxers, with his paunch prominently protruding.
Sometimes the gorging artist would nod, answering questions with a courteous belch, or perhaps stretching an arm through the oversized door so the dieters might feel flabby it was, and then again his would touch his lips to the industrial-sized pitcher of Chocolate SlimFast, the satisfying drink that accompanied his daily, sensible meal: eight sides of beef, the equivalent of four cows, cooked rare, 20 bean and cheese burritos from Taco Bell, and six pounds of mashed potatoes smothered in…
