Friday, December 28, 2012

Sh*twick, the Big-Bottomed Goof

Up at Lake Titticaca… the far Northern shores.
He was sitting there eating his fourth and fifth s’mores.
His “sample” had turned into a big crazy binge,
And his jaw was about to come off of its hinge.

Then it happened that Sh*twick, that overweight fellow,
Frowned with his mouth sticky from the marshmallow.
Because a face started to form there in the fire,
A face that hadn’t been there two minutes prior.
“Hello,” the face said.
“Why not stop eating, Sh*twick?”
Put down those graham crackers,
Marshmallows and choc-lick.
They’re a surefire way to get way too-big quick!”

“I’m drunk” laughed ol’ Sh*twick, the big-bottomed goof.
He gazed at the beer cooler as if looking for proof.
“Campfires have no mouthhole.”
You’re just talkin’ trash, troll.
So just cool your jets, you fiery ash-hole!”
But as Sh*twick sat there with his s’mores and his beer,
The campfire continued in a voice loud and clear.

The fire said, “You can joke and/or mock.
With your gut full of beer and your mouth full of choc.
But I’m here to tell you your life is in peril,
And things will get worse if you don’t be more careful.
It’s time to get going, you’re not getting younger.
It’s time to do something to curb your mad hunger.
And get a few wins in your battle with blubber.”

“You are right,” said ol’ Sh*twick.
“It’s time I took a chance.
Time for my horizons to be broadened
Instead of my pants.”

Ol’ Sh*twick agreed there in the outdoors,
Then proceeded to prepare a couple more s’mores.
“Tomorrow I’ll do well, I’ll start being more good.
I’ll exercise more and work out like I should.”

“Tomorrow?” The fire snorted, and grew even bigger.
“You’ve a gun at your head and you’re right on the trigger.
Don’t put it off, Sh*twick, that’s what I say.
It’ll be no easier tomorrow than it will be today.”

The fire grew larger,
Up over his head.
“Commitment’s like wildfire!”
That’s what he said,
In a voice sharp as barb wire.
Before he got burnt,
He looked down at his cookie.
Sh*twick couldn’t possibly do this.
Or could he?

No, Sh*twick.
Decidedly not.
It was time now to get busy or get off of the pot.
It’s true that things here were incredibly hot.
Now he remembered what he knew to be real.
About how awesome good health can feel.
Today is the day.
Sh*twick knew in his heart.
Today’s the best day you can possibly start.
He vowed to make this one his very best year,
Then put out the fire (with recycled beer).

“I have my own fire.
It burns deep inside.
To help on my quest to live my life less wide.”

And he wadded those s’mores up with the rest of the trash.
He buried them deep beneath still-smoldering ash.
And got himself ready for a big weight-loss clash.

And with the help of that fire,
All those pounds have been burned up.


  1. I love how your posts always make me smile and yet you still send the message. Happy New Year.

  2. That is actually what happened with me...minus the talking fire ;D Have a Happy New Year.

  3. Did you stalk my husband for that inspiration about recycled beer putting out fires? Just wondering.

  4. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.



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