The Iridescent glow of the neon yellow Waffle House sign made my gaping hole quiver in excitement, drawing me in like a fish to a hook. As I open the door, an unfamiliar feeling washes over me. A premonition, maybe? I make my way to the counter with plans to occupy an empty seat. As I walk my bulging abs shift like a water bed.
I piston myself into the hole between the seats. My long, lengthy, 7 foot abs intimidate the other customers.