Courtesy of TheWeirdcrap.com
Days of Our Hoes
Starring: Jennifer Lopez
by
Holly Wood
The alarm sounded off squarely at noontime at the Combs-Lopez apartment. Ironically, or was it ego-boosting? Lopez’s
new single was blasting on the radio. The New York sun bounced into their studio-bare apartment, shining on every
surface. Puffy had the good sense to remove all valuables from table tops and counters that could easily be knocked
off by his girlfriend’s unusually large behind.
Jennifer rubbed her eyes and began to put on her slippers. It was a Tuesday, and like every Tuesday, it was Poptart
day. She sluggishly dragged her fat ass out of bed. “It’s already 12:15...oh god, I can feel my ass disappearing!
Omigod! I have to eat something, and I have to eat something now!” Jennifer, grabbing her supposedly shrinking
rear, ran full-speed for her cabinet. Suddenly, her M+M phone rang.
“Hello?” Jen said sheepishly into her phone. “Jen, baby, I’m kinda in jail now. Could you maybe swing by with some
bail? I’m really getting bored and this guy Bubba’s literally riding my ass...” Jennifer thought about it. Then
she thought about it a little more. Then she realized that she wasn’t actually thinking at all, and what she thought
was thinking was actually the air conditioner humming in the distance. “Uhh, today’s not good for me. My Psychic
Friend told me that going out today is a bad idea. She said there was a 45% chance I might get some exercise and
reduce the mass on my ass. How about Wednesday? I’m good Wednesday, my psychic friend said I might be able to swallow
an entire heifer on Wednesday...” Jen, now getting aggravated and hungrier, said into the phone. “Honey, I kinda
wanna...* click *” The phone disconnected. “Hmm, guess he didn’t want to get out that bad...” Oblivious to Jennifer,
she has apparently knocked the phone line out of the wall with a swift shake of her ass. Little does the world
knows it has a mind of it’s own.
Back to the kitchen. Poor Mother Hubbard saw that her pantry was bare! What was this little gluteus maximusly gifted
child to do? The poptarts were gone, and aside from the abundance of vegetables filling the crisper, there was
not a crumb of overly-processed, saturated-fat, solidified soybean oil to be found anywhere! Even the mice of the
apartment could sense the panic racing through Lopez’s demeanor. “Where are the Twinkies? Good lord, we’re out
of Crisco? My kingdom for a Ding Dong!” She spun rapidly, the walls closed in on her, all the while, she could
only sense her gift of flab decaying before her very eyes.
She ran to her coat, then to her empty, even of crumbs for she had eaten them with the last of the mayonnaise,
cookie jar and pulled out the rolled $100 dollar bills Puffy kept for emergencies. “If this isn’t an emergency,
I don’t know what is.” She consoled herself. Mark’s Deli and Grocery was only 2 blocks away. Jennifer figured that
if she made up for the calories burned by eating an extra Ho Ho, she’d be all right. So she ran, telling herself
it would do her butt good, like a glass of whole milk washing down her Tastycake goodies.
Passing gawking strangers, she ran like a lunatic down the busy New York streets. Like a wolf on the prowl, her
incisors seemed to have sharpened into points and saliva was dribbling down her chin. Never in her life has she
run so fast, high on the endorphins that surged through her fat ass. Never mind the calories being burned, she’d
make up for them later.
Finally, she had barged into the door of the store. In one hand she grabbed a basket. In the other, she had already
ripped open a Snickers bar and chewed furiously. Like the frightening mothers in a Toys R’Us at Christmas, she
waddled up and down the aisles. Nothing was safe from her frantic hands. Coffee cake, pastrami, Oreo’s, chocolate
pudding, whipped cream, Cocoa Puffs, Yodels, Betty Crocker muffin mixes, Tostitos, Haagen Daz, Sara Lee Pound Cake,
animal crackers, marshmallows, and of course, her eyes widened as she approached the Poptarts. It was Tuesday after
all...
The varieties of this square form of sweetness astounded her. Up and down, she walked the breakfast item aisle,
ogling over the Blueberry, salivating over the Strawberry, panting for the S’mores. All the while, her loads of
groceries piled on her like the excess baggage of her rear. She grabbed every type available and booked for the
checkout.
But our pear-shaped heroine wasn’t done, no, not yet. Today was the day Jennifer Lopez would discover the beauty
and wondrous joy of the Grocer’s freezer.
Eggos, Ellio’s Frozen Pizza, Mrs. Smith’s Pumpkin Pies, Klondike bars, and to her suprise, Poptart’s arctic rival...Toaster
Pastries. Toaster Pastries! Oh what in the world the Lopez toaster has seen, but never has it seen Toaster Pastries,
the flaky crust surrounding a warm, fruit filling, with do it yourself icing. Jennifer dropped her heavy load.
She stood there; eyes wide with excitement, until an elderly woman approached the case, and took out the last box
of the Pillsbury Doughboy endorsed pastries. “NO!!!” Screamed Lopez, as she threw herself on the centurion.
Jennifer wrestled the old woman to the ground. “GIVE IT TO ME!” A sound not heard on earth emerged from the throat
of Lopez. A roar, more or less of a ravenous beast, penetrated the aisles of Mark’s Deli and Grocery that day.
The poor, elderly lady lay scared shitless in her Depends undergarments. Mark himself saw the deranged singer huddled
in a quivering mass in the corner of the bread wall tearing viciously into the rock-hard delicacies, icing dripping
down her face like the war paint of savages. He rushed to the phone and called the NYPD.
Later that day...
“BITCH, I can’t believe you got arrested.... Again, because of food! Look; baby got back, but god! Last time it
was over those fuckin’ Krispy Kremes, and now over what was it?” Puffy yelled. “...T..T..Toaster Pastries...” Jennifer
whimpered. “Great, Toaster Pastries. What the hell is wrong with you, bitch? Now we’re both stuck in this hell
hole, all because you needed to add mass to your fat ass...”
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