John McNee > Status Update

I nodded in agreement, even though I'd never personally tried having sex with a corpse. Sometimes it's important to agree with things just to keep the conversation going.

Both cops are morbidly obese, folds of blubber bursting from the seams of their uniforms, fat guts hung over their holster belts, giant bitch tits rubbing against their dress shirts. They cut off the sleeves of their uniforms, similar to muscle shirts, except instead of bulging biceps, overflowing hocks of drooping lard burst out of the edges of cloth, like the way a tree grows around a concrete fence.

Maybe he predicted the air disaster, but maybe the TV show did. Or someone watched the TV show and decided to crash a plane. Or the TV producers staged the accident, as some kind of viral marketing tie-in, like the time that J.J. Abrams TV show infected all of those babies with AIDS.