"Uh, I'm not really sure what's goin' on, man. You said you were a physique photographer, right? So what's the deal with all this food? I can't eat any of this shit, you know? My stomach would get all bloated and . . . Wait, what? The food is for you? Okay, I don't wanna be rude, but at your weight you may wanna lay off this kind of food, bro. You gotta be pushing 400 lbs or more as it is. I mean, I can see your belly sagging out from under your shirt. It's pretty fuckin' gross, to be honest. Whoa, why are you takin' your shirt off . . ? Oh my God, you are massive - you're even fatter than I thought, man. Fuck this; I'm outta here, you fat fuck . . .
What was that? Wait, how much? And I'll I gotta do is stand here and flex in my posers while you eat? That's fucked up, man. But . . . um, maybe if you throw in an extra $500, I could feed it to you as well? See just how much a disgusting fat pig like you can put away? Deal? Cool, I'm gonna call down for more room service, 'cause you're gonna eat so fuckin' much you'll never wanna eat again you greedy fat fuck."
