Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The Fat Woman's Revenge


Her Victim Did Not Get a Chance to Greet His Friends.

Apropos of the theater, I saw something one other night Within the last seven that filled me with a totally unholy glee. A woman sat in front of me. She was decidedly plump. In fact, she was what Illinois people call corn fed. She was bareheaded, too, by the way, and before the play began and after every act she had to stand up and let a man who sat near her pass out. It was a tight squeeze every time, and as the man did not say, "Pardon me!" or "Beg your leave!" or anything else to show the faith that was in him I could see the tide of that fat woman's wrath rise till its crimson edge made the straggling fringe below her back hair bristle indignantly.

At last the play was over, and the man wanted to rush out to join two women friends — undoubtedly he'd have called them "lady friends" — whom he had noticed near. But did he rush? Well, if he did, his rush wasn't visible to the naked eye. That fat woman sat down and put on her rubbers. Then she replaced her gloves, which she had taken off. Then she stood up, blocking the passage, while she put on her hat, adjusted her veil and buttoned her cloak. And all the while the man was dancing with impatience, unable to get out, and the "two lady friends" were passing out the door. At last the fat woman moved, and the man — well, inasmuch as nothing so much angers a man as a punishment he knows he deserves, you can imagine how he looked. For my part, I thought it was delightful, and if ever I meet that fat woman I mean to tell her so. — Washington Post.

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