Chapter 1 - may 4, 2015

May 4, 2015
I rushed through the hall. Late again. God, why the fuck did I want to finish the box of cookies before I left. I'm such a ***.


He opened the doors. 12:15. Fifteen minutes late. "Late again, Mr. Armando?" the professor said.


"I got held up in traffic."


"You live in the frat house next to this side of campus."


He sat down, took his notebook out and tried to concentrate.


***
Stressful day at class. He barely understood what the professor explained. Who needs Calculus anyways, he thought. Nothing important. Nothing he wanted to pursue. So it didn't matter at all to him. It didn't bother him that he didn't understand. He couldn't give a fuck. He walked into a nearby cafe. Ordered a latte and a muffin, nothing too big. He wasn't stuffed from the box of cookies he ate after breakfast. Oh, Armando. Never thinks of anything other than food. Last quarter, the only subject he passed was his culinary arts class where he did nothing but eat food other prepared; that was his role in the class, he was the taste tester. An easy A. Nothing but good things came from that class: A passing grade, lifelong friends with whom he lives with at the frat house, and, well, not many people would consider this a good thing, but a nice soft plump belly. Obviously it hadn't grown unreasonable proportions. He was only taking a culinary class for an hour once a week. That wouldn't impact anyone a lot. He went to lift some weights often, too, but it has been a while since he worked out. He was really close to getting his six-pack he so desired. But that was a dream he had in the past. He buried it. It'd take a lot for it resurface. His belly didn't bother him at all. It didn't bother his friends. It didn't bother others nor did it bother his family. It was perfectly fine. Nothing extravagant. So if no one seemed to be bothered by it, why change it? he thought.

He stuffed the remaining piece of the muffin in his mouth. He fumbled through his key chain to find the keys to unlock the frat house. No one should be there, it's past 12. They're all at class. Ah, he found it. He stepped on the doormat, opened the door, and stepped inside.

Immediately stampeded toward the kitchen. He opened the cupboard and took out a dozen doughnuts and stacked them on top of each other. He then proceeded to a nearby drawer and took a few frosting flavors and smothered them onto the stacked doughnuts. He then opened the freezer and scooped up five three scoops of ice cream and placed it on the border of the plate. "A masterpiece," he said. "I'm so glad I the culinary class had a junk food lesson." He took his creation to the den where he started to eat. Stuffing entire frosted doughnuts followed by a scoop of cake batter ice cream. Delicious. Hits the spot. Perfect.

"Eating that again?" It was Mars, his roommate. "Dude if you continue this, you're gonna get hella fat."

"Gonna?" Connor said. He was right behind Mars. "Armando's been bringing ever since culinary class."

"That's how we got to know our boy," Mars reminisced. He proceeded to smile as he went on over to pat Armando's stomach. I haven't gained that much weight, he thought. Probably at 190. Not much for a big guy like me. Only gained 15 or so pounds. The "Freshmen 15" as they say it. Only he was a sophomore. He spent his freshman year lifting weights and snorting cocaine, but he was a different person now. A little chubbier, that's all. He was no longer a cocaine addict, but an addict for food, but her knew his limits... sorta.