"This was such a great idea, wasn't it? Bunch of college buddies getting together for a long weekend? This place is so cool, right? Are you having a good time? I'm just asking because you seem kinda quiet. Back in the day you were always the wild one, man. Some crazy shit we got up to. And I notice that you haven't been in the pool yet. In fact, you haven't even taken your shirt off. What's up, man? Can you tell me, or . . . oh, you're staring at my abs. Yeah, I mean I guess the rest of us are in pretty good shape. Nathan does all those fitness modelling shows, and Bart is a personal trainer and, yeah, I guess I'm one of those guys who lives for the gym. So what if you've let yourself go a little. Well, a lot actually. You're . . . no point avoiding it. You're fucking massive, bro. And not in a good way. From the moment you waddled in here, that's all the rest of us have talked about. How fucking fat you are. I mean, what the fuck, man? You are at least double the size you were in college, and none of that extra weight is muscle. It's all lard, man. Hundreds and hundreds of pounds of excess fat. We've had to change the itinerary last minute because there's no way someone as obese as you could do pretty much any of the activities we had planned. You know, Nate called the charter company and they said no one over 500 lbs could go out on their boat. That's fucked up, man. You are fucked up. And from watching you eat over the last few days - constantly - you don't seem to be at all concerned with how disgustingly fat you are. So, I just wanted to put that out there. I'm going for a run on the beach. I guess you're headed back to the kitchen. Try and save some food for the rest of us, you fat fuck."
