What happens when you ask a dumb fatso and Miss I-have-it-all prom queen to save the world from collapsing?
The only thing this story misses is zombies. You heard it right, we have it all - UFOs, aliens, time-travel. This is the one-stop Sci-Fi book...
Doofus, Dingus, Fat-butt, Porker, All-fat-no-brain and Chunk of Flesh were just a few of the names that Toby Collins had acquired. And that is to spare the readers of the profanity. It seemed people had more difficulty accepting his plus size than he, himself. He was used to all the teasing, mockery and rejections by now. For someone who was always picked last in gym class, who had to do group science projects alone, and whom people steered away from in corridors, that fate picked him to throw into this bizarre adventure was a big surprise to him.
He was never too bright or smart. Whether it was because of his mediocre GP in school or because of his appearance that he was bumped off all job interviews in the last five months he did not know. So, when he told his landlady that he could not pay the rent for the third month in a row, she understood. Ironically, his bills were pretty large (his small figure of bank balance was not enough to drive sense into him), because in his mind, he had a clear outline of his priorities, and food came before having a place to crash in.
He had espoused food. Toby was the kind of person who would have five extra-large burgers with loaded cheese, extra chicken chunks and extra mayo, with two large cheesy fries on the side, three club sandwiches, one plate of jalapeno poppers, a pitcher full of coke and then a croissant for breakfast. His orders put foodies to shame.
It was after eating this troll's breakfast that he headed to his job interview. Twelfth of God knows how many, Toby thought to himself. All of his interviews followed the same pattern. When he would enter the office, the interviewers would give one long, studying look at him. They would ask him a few cursory questions and formally tell him that they would call. They never did. Little did he know that this time, it was going to be different.
He reached the office and noted it was a small and shabby building. The firm owners were probably not well-to-do, this might just be his chance. He waited at a make-do reception and noticed the dull wooden floors. Each thing made him a little more confident. But then he instantly recalled the last eleven interviews and decided no one in their right state of mind would hire him and shrivelled up like a nut. That's when the assistant showed him in.
The first thing he noticed was that the two interviewers were young and lean. When asked to sit, he tried to settle in the chair that seemed all too tiny for him. And so, when he sat, he shook the whole desk in front of him and quickly apologized for it. He wasn't feeling comfortable. The buttons of his rented suit that confined his volume and the piercing gaze of his interviewers compounded his feeling.
"Say, Marcus," said one interviewer, "I thought we had called out to interview accountants but not balloons." The other laughed. Toby stayed quiet.
"What's your name?" asked Marcus. "Toby Collins" was said quietly.
"Did you have breakfast?" he asked. Toby nodded. " 'Course you did. What did you have?"
That took Toby by surprise. "I'm sorry?"
"Maybe if you push your belly down, it won't get in the way of your hearing. I said what-did-you-have?" he repeated, enunciating every word. Toby recited his order like a poem. "Good God! Were you having breakfast or preparing to survive a famine!" The other laughed. Toby had nothing to say, so he simply put his file on the desk and slid it forward.
The first interviewer took one look at the file, looked up and remarked, "Why isn't your profile just as fat? Have you been eating all of its pages?" to which Marcus chuckled and added, "Now, now, Howard, go a little easy on Meatball here..." He picked the file and skimmed through, "Failed in Gym class? If you would have passed, I would have personally seen to launching an inquiry!" They exchanged a laugh. Toby remained silent. This wasn't the first torrent of verbal insult directed at him.
After briefly going through the contents of the file, he slammed it shut. "Look, this is a sorry excuse of a job application ..."
Howard added, "Yeah, what good is an accountant who can't even count the number of toes on his feet?"
Laughter.
"We can't hire someone who cannot fit into our chairs without breaking it!"
"Besides, dealing with all the seismic activity will be a problem ..."
Toby was clenching his fist, gritting his teeth, he had shut his eyes and had stopped listening to them. He was starting to space out and went to his happy place. He was eating a hotdog.
When his anger flushed out, he opened his eyes and to his horror, the two interviewers had disappeared and in their place, there was one giant hotdog bun and a life-size sausage! Not believing what he saw, he rubbed his eyes, but they were still there. He went into a trance; he couldn't move, he couldn't feel and he couldn't understand anything. When he came to, he didn't waste a minute and took flight.
Toby needed a pie, or ten. He scurried out of the building and the shady alley the office was located in. He kept walking for God knows how long, thinking, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Was it real? Was he dreaming? As far as he could remember this had never happened before. Perhaps it was a side effect of the infection he got from poison ivy last week? If it was, it would be curious really, because the plant isn't even supposed to grow in Europe let alone appear out of nowhere in Toby's garden. It had to be something else right? The fragrance of freshly-baked banana bread broke his daze. Well, he felt about as sane as you would expect one to feel in his situation. That's also when he spotted Kimberly's, the source of this delicious smell that made his feet walk towards it as if having lost all sense of control. He was immediately greeted with a strong scent of vanilla accompanied by eye-catching bright vintage interiors.
On the counter stood a beautiful red-haired twenty-something woman, evidently the owner. Her demeanour exuded confidence and gaiety as she catered to her customers with a smile that could comfort even the deepest of wounds, which was quite contrary to our Toby. It's a good thing he never had self-confidence issues; he just always did his thing which was an admirable quality considering people weren't always the kindest to him. Toby approached the counter right as she finished up talking with an old lady. Before he could order she left for the kitchen almost in a hurry. An assistant took her place.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Morning sir, what can I get you today?" she asked in a high-pitched chipper voice.
"3 walnut pies, 3 lemon tarts, a loaf of banana bread and an iced tea for dine-in. Add garlic bread to the same order instead of the banana. Thank you"
The waitress gave a sceptical look but complied. Toby was used to these looks; he had learned to ignore them.
He picked the only vacant high stool in there and settled in. Halfway through enjoying his meal, he noticed the red-haired girl return to the counter. As a person who had been to a lot of interviews in life and faced twice as many rejections, he knew quite a bit about reading expressions. And the girl that returned from the kitchen, trying hard to look normal, fidgeting with her fingers and her apron, was definitely not the jovial one that went in. Charlotte looked disconcerted, to say the least.
Toby left soon after but he could not stop thinking about the girl from the cafe. Not only because he tasted the best banana bread of his life there but also because of the look that he saw on her face. He felt drawn to her as if she would understand. And as life would have it, their paths crossed again, their lives intertwining in an inexplicable chaos that made sense only to them. Or so they thought.
