"And that's the cut!"
The stage lights died and the grips put down their equipment.
Fatty Arbuckle waddled out the stage door to his trailer.
He opened his min-fridge and pulled out a lunch of
a small ceasar salad and an iced tea.
Groucho Marx tapped on his trailer door and invited himself in.
"Hey there Fats, hows the picture coming?"
Fatty wiped the dressing off his face.
"It's coming along okay, I guess."
"Me and the boys were going down to Musso and Frank's later tonight.
You should join us."
Fatty took a large swig of tea, capped it, and put it back in the fridge.
"I don't know, Carlos. I was kind of wanting to stay in tonight. Curl up
with a nice book. I've been reading Marquez. I think you'd like him.
The way he describes things like nature and his blend of fantasy and reality.
Interesting stuff."
Groucho lit a smoke.
"But it's Friday, Fats!"
"I know, I know. But that stuff just doesn't cut it for me anymore. The ladies
never pay me no mind. I think I belong at home, away from people."
"I wouldn't say that Fats. You're a card. You know how to make the ladies laugh."
Fatty took a seat.
"Sometimes I think there's more to life than pictures, you know?
Maybe I could go someplace where a person my size is more accepted.
Like Wisconsin.
Alot of big people there. I could ride in cars tailor made for me, the restaurants
wouldn't put bolt locks on the buffet when I show up...I don't know. I would
just be another large face in the crowd."
Groucho took a seat next to him.
"You know Fats, you're not the only one who's too big for your britches.
And believe me, you've got some big ones. But you make a pretty good living, no?"
"I guess."
"And you enjoy doing the pictures, making people laugh, right?"
"I do."
"Well there ya go. Believe me Fats, I'd love for you to be happy. But it seems like
you've got plenty to be happy about right here in good ole' California. And you
don't neccesarily need to leave all of this behind to go off and find yourself."
Fatty took out his iced tea and finished it.
"I guess you're right."
"I know I am. Besides, there are alot of stiffs out there who appreciate the laughter
you bestow upon them. Ain't that rewarding enough?"
Fatty stood up.
"You're right, Carlos."
He opened the trailer door and he and Groucho walked back to
the studios.
"Good luck with Duck Soup."
"And good luck with yours."
Fatty walked on the set, ready to go.
"Let's shoot this motherfucker."
Poor advice.
Last edited by stellar_legs at Feb 19, 2008,
you should remix this so it rhymes and set it to Lou Reed's "walk on the wild side" perhaps a fat rap?
Quote by stellar_legs
Or maybe I should keep it the way it is, like I intended it to be?

+1. I like it alot, don't change it.

-writing doesn't have to rhyme to be good ffs.
Quote by yawn
Don't type in all caps.

Otherwise You Look Like A Complete Moron.

Quote by jazz_rock_feel
1) Bold print. Reason? Y/N?