Robbie Bourbon recently visited a travel agency, and recently fled after assisting in condemning the building, but he has only begun condemning Peter Gilmour, that porky little swine.

101 FAT JOKES ABOUT PETER

We see a serene, orange floored forest in the cool early November afternoon. The trees, while bare, are still stately as their leaves coat the undergrowth, itself an imperial and vibrant orange, striking to the senses. It's the time of the year when everything smells more earthy, when the sun shines as the temperature decreases, when every kind of beast on earth prepares to slumber and hibernate through the cold months, sleeping for months on end, the true masters of the animal kingdom simply bundle up and trudge on, eating those who would sleep. Like Peter Gilmour engulfing an entire Ethiopian village thinking they were beef jerky.

Peter Gilmour is so fat when he shits he can't hear the plops. Peter Gilmour is so fat his undertits count as terrariums.

We see Robbie Bourbon pulling up in the A-Team van painted to look like the Ghostbusters car. He sets the car in park as the bright shine of sunlight punches through and illuminates the entire world around him, his mask almost glistening like another leaf on the ground, rebelled from the dregs of being the canopy and allowing the warmth of day to enlighten. The rest of the Bourbon Men, Blue, Diamondback, Cyberjaw, and Joe Biden, all exit, along with conditional applicant to the Bourbon Men Gallagher and two ladies who worked at a now defunct travel agency. Almost as defunct as Peter Gilmour's testicles, because of the testicular torsion he suffers from due to years of neglectful eating. Peter Gilmour drank a whole carton of potato salad in one sitting and then ate a candy bar. Peter Gilmour's ass always stick out, even in private. Peter Gilmour's thighs chafe and it's why he's always so grumpy. Peter Gilmour's blood type is gravy. Peter Gilmour cut back on carbs and now only eats a dozen donuts a day. Peter Gilmour looks like Ralphie Mae only half as talented and Ralphie Mae doesn't even like himself all that much. Peter Gilmour got kicked out of a buffet for pulling a chair to the steam tables.

Wow, fresh air. Peter Gilmour farts take an additional hour to leave his body after they come out of his sphincter.

Sorry about that, I guess I'm flubbing the audition. Peter Gilmour hasn't seen his dick since the 90's.

Well, maybe, maybe you just need help, but Peter Gilmour definitely, definitely, sucks cock for Spaghetti-O's. Cyberjaw!

Yeah, I'm here, Peter Gilmour masturbates by rubbing his knees together, the lube usually being last night's load and the cellulite actually feels like the inside of a vagina. I think that's a twofer. You don't have to yell.

Look, use your technomantic powers to build a youth invigorating machine to assist Gallagher. He was funny when he was able to smash fruit, but now he's seventy and his jokes are just mean without that whole swing of whimsy brought by prop comedy. Peter Gilmour uses an absentee ballot because he doesn't fit in most voting booths.

With what supplies? We're in the woods!

Go Minecraft that shit, I don't care, just do it! Also, Peter Gilmour bought a home IV kit for mainlining melted butter and chocolate syrup.

Ugh, fine. Can I borrow your...

You may borrow my nothing, and every time Peter Gilmour bleeds, you can see the real chunks of cheese floating through his veins.

And Chicken.

And Peas.

What is it, Minestrone?

Dude, you have an axe, you just used it to hit a gun, it's not even sharpened, can't I use it? It'll get all gnarly looking, it'll be cool.

You're a technological genius, my friend, now go make my axe look hella cooler, and do something about Gallagher being elderly.

Okay, chief.

Cyberjaw and Diamondback shrug and walk away as Cyberjaw pulls out a rolled blunt. Peter Gilmour makes elevators shake.

Alright, I need to beat on Peter Gilmour because he just says I'm fat. Like, big fucking whoop, I'm husky, the people get it, it's part of what makes me the Man of the People, but that doesn't mean I'm some waste of flesh and burden on society. Shit, most people in America started going nuts saying people should lose weight domestically because the internet started saying we were all fat. Then we tuned in to see the Kardashians carve out a life or a few extra pounds here and there, not sure if they won the beauty pageant or just ran unopposed as proof that being a fucking human being with real life problems doesn't mean you can't be rich. Kinda like Peter, oddly enough, doesn't he live in the same neighborhood as them? It is what it is.

Peter Gilmour gets frustrated and out of breath using a stylus on his phone because his fingers are too fat to press a single fucking button. Peter Gilmour makes people nervous on public transportation, partly because he'll kill someone in an accident, partly because he might have a heart attack and nobody wants to deal with that. Peter Gilmour doesn't peel bananas before eating them because he already knows what's inside. Peter Gilmour sneaks seven course turkey dinners into the movies. Peter Gilmour bought three bags of popcorn after eating the meal. He washed it down with an extra-large Diet Mr. Pibb. Peter Gilmour washes himself with a rag on a stick. Peter Gilmour is so fat he has his own gravitational pull. Peter Gilmour once bragged about the subs in his trunk to his homies and then showed them chicken, eggplant, and sausage parm. Peter Gilmour ate a whole jar of olives in one sitting. Peter Gilmour is so fat that when he sits around the house, he really sits around the house.

I've heard that one!

Oh, cool, I know it's an oldie.

Here, let me have a go. I'm an old fogey! Peter Gilmour is so fat he breaks the electric buggies at Wal-Mart. Peter Gilmour is so fat when he gets out of bed in the morning it causes a tsunami in Indonesia. Peter Gilmour is so fat he sweats au jus. Peter Gilmour is so fat he eats raw potatoes. Peter Gilmour is so fat he can't use a hammock. Peter Gilmour is so fat he broke the swings as a kid.

And the slide.

And every water slide he rides.

Rollercoasters.

Nah, he doesn't fit on them.

Neither do I.

You're HUSKY.

Peter Gilmour is so fat he takes up two seats in coach.

Bus, train, or plane?

Yes.

Damn.

So, is that a hundred and one?

I didn't keep count.

Okay. Well, Gallagher, once my Bourbon Men have somehow dicked around long enough to get you some deus ex machina that'll somehow turn back the clock and allow you to smash fruit and not fire off illegal rounds, I'm sure we'll be delighted to see your display. Until then, ladies, allow me to offer you the first groundbreaking opportunity ever. I want you both to come work for me. I will triple your salaries, each of you, and all you have to do is maintain my branding presence on travel websites and throughout actual brick and mortar agencies.

The ladies look at each other, then turn to Robbie.

I dunno...

The other lady looks at the one who spoke, then back at Robbie. She picks up a stick and whacks the other with it in the leg.

Ow! What the fuck!

I'm fucking extreme is what!

Robbie giggles along with Blue.

It's pronounced 'Xtreme'.

Yeah, I'm that!

The Xtreme Travel Agent whacks the other travel agent again, who runs off.

I quit!

YEAH!

The Xtreme Travel Agent raises her arms in victory as "NEW BOURBON MAN CONFIRMED, XTREME TRAVEL AGENT" scrolls along the bottom of the screen. Soon, Fat Spencer the Weary pulls up in a vintage station wagon.

You called me? Said something about a mission?

Oh, go give that other poor girl who got hit with a stick a ride home. No frisky business.

I wouldn't!

That's right, Spencer. I got my eye on you. No go get her home safely and make sure she doesn't report Gallagher, I don't know if he still has a licence for wanton violent humor.

Yes sir!

Fat Spencer pulls off, and with a name like Fat Spencer, it may surprise some to hear he's skinny compared to Peter Gilmour. Robbie turns to the Xtreme Travel Agent.

Now, you're going to help me wheel and deal with local hotels.

Okay!

Why are you doing that?

Robbiecon.