Why Fat Ronald Cheats

     All the ads say it’s hot and juicy, and it’s hot alright, but the juicy’s really just grease that congeals pretty quickly back into fat. He’s reasonably sure he can feel it coating his arteries even before he swallows it. None of this, though, keeps him from eating there three or four times a week, nor does it cause him to consider ordering a salad or the lo-cal fruit parfait.
     His wife tells him he’s turning into a bacon-wrapped double cheeseburger, but all he hears is how delicious he is, how much she wants to gobble him up. He loves her dearly, but she just doesn’t satisfy him anymore. He’s always at least a little disappointed when her home cooking lacks the same degree of hypercaloric excess, refuses to dribble down his chin, promises neither the cardiac arrhythmia nor the ever- expanding waistline he’s come to expect from his pleasure.

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