The Fat Man and his Dog

by Casey Criswell

Beans and Blues

   

  The Fat Man shoveled beans into his mouth with a spoon the size of his own ham-like fist.  Most found their way into his mouth, though many cascaded downward into his beard and onto to the table cloth tucked in to the front of his ragged shirt. Dog watched the Fat Man intently pondering how he could make a play for the stray beans.

  “I take it you find the food satisfactory sir” father asked over the sounds of smacking gums and grunts emanating from across the table.

  “Mmmph…good” the Fat Man mumbled around a mouthful.  Dog whined quietly having finished his own plate off moments before.

  Father and son looked at each other with a shared grimace.  The sight of the man of legend sitting across from them tarnished the reverence they had felt earlier that morning.

  “So…” father asked tentatively. “What brings you forth this fine day again?”

  “Hungry, told you that.” The Fat Man let forth a belch while wiping the bean juice from his chin.  “Bored too.”

  “Bored sir?  That begs the question of where you’ve been all these years again sir” father deferred.  “You used to be such a…storied sight those many years ago, then you disappeared!”

  “Eh…had stuff to tend to, all that rot.” Fat Man set his mighty spoon upon the table top then held the hand out to Dog who began to lick the bean remnants from his hand. “Dog’s old too.”  Dog paused in his lapping to give a spiteful look to the man he called friend for so many years.

  Fat Man grunted as he took in Dog’s gaze. “S’pose he’s right. I’m old too.”

  “So your adventures came to a close then?  What with all that spare time, surely something of excitement kept you at bay?”

  “Sleepin’.  Did a lot of that.  Watched grass grow one summer too.”  With dog having finished the cleaning, Fat Man raised a hand to scratch between Dog’s ears in an idle and loving manner.

  “Grass grow?  An entire summer?”

  “Aye. Not much else to do.” Fat Man continued to rest a hand upon the head of his faithful companion while his eyes turned downcast and sad.

  “Sir Fat Man,” father steeled himself to press onward with his personal inquiry.  “I can’t help but notice that you’ve lost the exuberance that you were once known for.  Is there…is there something wrong?”

  The Fat Man sighed briefly and turned to look Dog in the eye.  Dog appeared to frown as he gazed back at his master with sadness and love in his eyes.  For those familiar with the wandering duo spoken of in pubs across the land, the change was apparent.  His girth had grown considerably, his hair and beard left unkempt and unsightly.  Dog as well had grown portly and shaggy, his fur dull and listless.  The man looked sad and ungainly though nary a gray hair could be seen.  The Dog looked like a well cooked bratwurst on four legs, plump and bursting at the seams.

  “Shitter?” the Fat Man asked unexpectedly.

  Father jerked to a start having become absorbed in the morose turn to his inquiry.  “Ex…excuse me?” he stammered.

  “Shitter.  Toilet.  Out house.  Or you want me to do it here?”

  “Oh, yes the outhouse.  Behind the house, to the left,” father answered bewildered. “Sir, not to be too disrespectful, but I’ve fed you now.  I feel I deserve an answer from you.”

  “I’ll get to it,” Fat Man replied as he pushed himself back from the table.

  The Fat Man raised his heavy frame from the chair, pulling the table cloth from out his collar and pushing Dog to the side.  Stomping off towards the door, he replied to the father as he made his exit.  “We’re not really morning people, lemme wake up first.”

  “Morning people sir?  You’ve been in our company for an hour or two at least.  How long do you need to wake up,” father asked in response. 

  “Eh, been asleep for awhile. Takes a bit.”

  “But how long have you been asleep sir that would require so long to shake the cobwebs from your sleep addled brain?”

  “Year or two.  Maybe three, don’t’ really remember” the Fat Man replied as he pushed open the door to the farmer’s hut.

  The father and son blinked rapidly as they tried to understand the implication of the statement.  They remained silent in their shock.

  “Oi, don’t touch Dog while I’m takin’ care of business. He’s not a morning person either.”