P.T. “Fatback” Gilmour was running late for his date with Jen.  Ok, “running” probably isn’t the word to use.  He was late.  It had taken him longer than expected to find his pants in his dingy apartment and even longer still to pick out what he believed to be the most badass shirt in his closet. 

The fedora was always resting on his mushy head, even when all he had on was his boxers.

On top of trying to look classy as fuck for Jen, he had decided to stop and pick up some roses and chocolates for her.  Of course he ate them, but he didn’t tell her about them either.  At least she won’t be mad.  No need in starting this out on the wrong foot. 

Fatback had been racking his brain about whether or not he should even go to see her.  He knew that no matter the outcome of his match on Warfare, he was never coming back.  On the flip side, this was a female that was talking to him so she must be interested in the D.  That’s what P.T. had always heard about women.  If she’s a friend, she’ll fuck you.  If she won’t, she’s friendzoning you and has been leading you on, using you for friendship. 

Bitches, man.

That’s why Peter Gilmour was always so quick to call women sluts and various other names.  That’s why Gilmour viewed women as beneath him.  It’s always why he seemed emotionally and intellectually stunted, but Filmour had yet to understand that much.

Fatback approached the door of Herb’s Coffee and Herbs at just around 5:23pm.  He spotted Jen immediately despite the fact that he had only seen her in the video of her being assaulted by Rose online.  He smiled and waved at her.  She smiled warmly and motioned for him to come over.  She seemed to be sitting a bit stiffly and was wearing a neckbrace thanks to the attack.  Fatback started to sit down, but noticed that it was just a standard wooden chair.  There was no chance in Hell it would support his weight.  Jen quickly came up with the idea to move across the room to a couch.  It creaked under Fatback’s massive frame. 

Jen:  I was starting to get worried you wouldn’t show up! 

She smiles at him again.  His heart melts.

Jen:  You weren’t running late because you got me something, were you?

Fatback, very shyly, hands her the flowers.  Jen accepts them and gently places them next to her.

Jen:  P.T., you really shouldn’t have.

Fatback:  Well, you seemed really nice on the phone and I just wanted to make sure this was special.

Jen:  Well, that was very thoughtful of you.  I…I want to make it clear before we start talking, I’m not looking for a relationship right now.  We both just got out of terrible ones from the sound of it, and I think it would be best to just be friends.

Fucking.  Friendzone.  Fatback leans back and sighs deeply.

Fatback:  You mean, you were nice to me and you weren’t gonna’ bone me and shit?

Jen looks disappointed, but a look of understanding quickly washes over her face.

Jen:  No, P.T.  You see, women are people just like you.  They have feelings and wants and needs, you know?  It can get pretty frustrating, as a woman, to be friendly and caring just to have some guy tell you to suck his dick or something.  It’s like you can never make real connections with someone from the other sex.  It makes me think of that line from When Harry Met Sally when Harry’s telling her men and women can never really be friends if the guy thinks she’s attractive because the guy just wants sex. 

Fatback:  I’m sorry, dog.  I didn’t mean it like that or nothin’.  I just…I just don’t understand.  I’ve been with Peter so long.  I guess I just think like him sometimes.  I don’t mean to be all objectifyin’ you and shit.  You a cool bitch, ya heard? 

Jen pats his leg as the coffee shop server brings to plain lattes to them.

Jen:  You’re your own man, P.T.  You don’t have to do what someone else is doing.  Especially not that asshole.  Peter Gilmour is a shining example of what a man should never be.  His self-worth is completely tied in with the way other people see him.  He’s cocky and a misogynist.

Fatback:  You right.  I mean, I don’t know what that last word means and shit, but he is cocky and ain’t done shit without me to be cocky about.

Jen:  So what exactly happened with the two of you?

Fatback tries to think of a way to explain it that won’t sound batshit crazy.

Fatback:  Well, I was his fat and he cut me off and…(same insane backstory you’ve heard already.  TL:DR mutagen).  Now I’m like, “Dog, I love you.  You and me is what needs to be.  You and me makes the baddestass wrestler in the world together.  Why won’t you just lemme’ get up in you so I can give you your fat back?”  And he’s all, “I’m just gone repeat the same stupid shit all the damn time and brag about fuck all and act like I actually worked to get the weight off and Imma pretend I don’t even know the fat that’s been with me all my life.”  It’s some straight up bullllllllshit, yo.

Jen sips the coffee for way longer than she intended.  The insanity of this situation is catching up to her quickly.

Jen:  That’s…Intersting.  I was in a situation similar to that.  I was dating this guy and we were together for about 4 years.  I was on disability for a while thanks to a back injury, but that wasn’t enough to support me.  I did what I could around the house, though.  I cleaned and washed.  I mean, he helped to.  He was a good guy, exactly what I wanted.  I taught him how to budget and stuff, and then one day, with no warning, he just packs his stuff and leaves me alone.  Then a week later I’m at the library and…well…you saw.  When it rains, it pours, you know?  Now, here I am just stuck here with a bad back that’s keeping me from working, my neck is messed up because of that Rose guy, and…I just don’t know what I’m going to do.

Fatback sits and watches her start to tear up, but she pulls herself together.

Fatback:  I feel ya.  Fuck, yo.  On top of errthing else…I was scratchin’ my nuts the other day and I found a lump.

Jen looks at him, shocked.

Jen:  OH NO!

Fatback:  I mean, turns out it was a Cheeto.

Her facial expression slumps.

Fatback:  I don’t know what depressed me more, ya know…The thought I might have nut cancer or knowin’ it had done been like 4 days since I ate them bitches.

He looks at her with the dumbest grin on his face.  She tries to be angry, but eventually laughs and slaps him on the shoulder.  The big lug!

They talked for several hours until finally it was time to go home.  Alone.  Upon getting to his apartment, Fatback found his checkbook.  Even though he hadn’t planned on making it out of Warfare in a human body, the XWF staff still made him sign a contract.  A contract that would see a sizeable amount of money left to his estate.  He wrote the check to that exact amount and sealed it in an envelope that he addressed to Jen.  He walked outside to his mailbox and slipped it in, confident that it would get to her just in time for her to not be able to give it back.

A greasy, oily tear trickled down his fat fucking cheek.