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type, shaped a little like an egg, even before he put on the extra pounds. and she was a knockout with her big tits and all in all perfectly if solidly made. Joe had thought once of becoming a professional bowler but he wasn't good enough. He had wondered what you had to have to put you in a different class. Was it some endowment, or just character? Bowling might have been his ticket out of the factory but it wasn't, he was just another little fat man with a bowling bag who could put together a few strikes when he was in the zone. The country was full of such people and some of them were cleaning toilets just like Joe. Christine's family hadn't liked him though he'd been making good money and they'd put the pressure on him to get the house with all his savings and hadn't put in a cent themselves so she was a gold digger at heart though with half a brain she could have done a lot better for herself from the start. Go figure it, he'd tell his brother, 
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and even got to thinking that maybe there was something to him after all, a notion he was disabused of soon enough. For sure she'd been sleeping around and sometimes she'd tease him too, walking around in a slip or a nightie and not letting him touch her. They were married just two years. There'd never be another woman like her, or any woman, he was sure, and he needed one just as he needed those millions of dollars to help him forget who he was, as he had in those first few weeks when he thought she loved him. Scrubbing his hands and climbing out of the nylon suit at the end of every shift he'd put the toilets behind him and have a couple of beers with the crew. Then he'd walk all the way home for the exercise and to save the carfare. He could hardly make it up the stairs and knew he'd have to move before he found himself stuck somewhere and needing the fire department to get him out. This didn't stop him from consuming 5-pound bags of potato chips and  |
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