Fat Chicks and Horror Flicks

Fat people aren't in horror flicks. Not that I'd actually want to be in a horror film but I'm saying that even if we were I wouldn't be much of a challenge. This is how I imagine the scenario:

A dark cabin in the woods during a thunderstorm. Six friends are on vacation. After a night of laughing and wine, the friends prepare for bed. Unfortunately, two of the friends are also a couple so they decide to make love. And as you all well know, sex is like a psycho magnet. Suddenly, outside the window, a crazed machete-wielding sociopath appears in the window with a flash of lightning. He silently makes his way inside the cabin while the unsuspecting friends sleep or bone. He goes for the sex monkeys first, slashing and slicing his way through the beast with two backs. The noise awakens the other residents who run toward the noise. (Which in and of itself is a huge mistake.) All, that is, except for the lone fat girl who decides to stay her happy ass exactly where it is. The others, upon seeing the massacre of flesh and blood, run toward the phone, whose service has been inconveniently disrupted due to the storm. They decide to make a run for it.

Now, where the sociopath is at this time is anyone's guess, he's off plotting his next move in his elaborate cat and mouse game.

They rush into bigt girl's bedroom. She waves them away, 'Nah, I'm good.' They look at her incredulously. Doesn't she know that a machete-weilding psycho is trying to kill them. Yes, she answers, she does. But there's also no way that she can outrun him so they should just go ahead and do what they do. She's just going to chill. They don't have time for this shit, someone yells angrily. Let that fat bitch die. Yeah, well it's not looking that good for you either you, dumb fuck.

So, the friends leave the big girl to her fate and run off to eventually get maimed somewhere deep in the woods because that's what usually happens in these movies. She knows that when they get outside none of the cars will work because true psychos are truly genius and he would have thought about that before starting with the dice-o-matic thing.

So, she waits. Kicking back, bowl of popcorn in her lap, reading a romance novel. The psycho burts into the room. Blood rnning down the wicked blade in his clenched fist. She looks up and in a bored voice states, Well, lets get this over with. Mr. Crazy Pants tilts his head as if in askance. Look, Crazy, Machete Wielding Psycho, you and I both know that there's only one way this will end. I'm too big to try to outrun you, even if you do do that slow walk thing that somehow always manages to catch unsuspecting coeds. So, I'll save you the trouble and myself the effort. I'll just lay here and you can go ahead and kill me. Just let me finish this paragraph right quick and then we can do this.

The psycho is clearly bewildered. She was supposed to be running. She was supposed to be afraid. He had a fucking machete for chrissake! To prove his point he waves said object. No deal. She continues to read her book, idly turning the page. Needless to say he's in a bit of a quagmire. He's a killer. It's what he does. But he's also a man so he likes the thrill of the hunt. She's not cooperating. Added to that, there were three other who were locked and loaded as it were.

Decision made, the psycho turns and leaves the room. She's no fun.

So, the fat chick is saved and uses her cell to call the police because she's apparently the only person that thought of that. And she looks very sad as she attends five funerals but deep down inside she thinks, that's what y'all get for all those fat jokes.

Of course I AM Black so these are all moot points.


Later