22204-cover-200x280An extract from ‘One Last Binge’, by Sarah Lotz, first published in Something Wicked Issue Eight

I’m late again, but Theo’s saved me a chair next to him. As he waves me over I can clearly make out the dark half-moons spreading across the underarms of his Eminem T-shirt. Theo’s permanently sweaty. We all are. Even though the temperature outside is a bollock-freezing below zero, the heating in this room is turned right down.

I push my way apologetically past the second row, fielding hellos and how-are-yous. Theo looks absurdly pleased to see me. He’s squirming and bouncing like a four-year-old and his plastic chair creaks and farts and threatens to splay out on all fours like an ice-skating Bambi. Collapsing chairs aren’t unknown here.
The second I sit down he whispers: “I’ve lost two kilos,” then leans back to check my reaction.
I nod approvingly. “Wow, Theo. That’s great.”
“Yeah, thanks man. I’m feeling good. Feeling stroooong.” He curls one arm into a bodybuilder’s pose and I’m hit with a blast of industrial strength Old Spice. “I’ll get there, Dave, you’ll see.”
Theo wants to be my friend because at 185 kilograms I’m the lightest person here.
He’s hoping that my relatively svelte size will rub off on him. Theo’s so fat he has to have his jeans specially made for him. He’s so fat, he says, he’s forgotten what his dick looks like. He says he hasn’t seen it for years. On my first night here Theo sidled up to me while I was pretending to sip at a cup of fake coffee that smelled like burned rat and said straight out that he hadn’t had sex for over two years. There are parts of his body, he says, he’s not sure even exist any more.

Purchase the eBook of Something Wicked Issue Eight

Comments are closed.