Breaking an entrance

"All right," you say, "But be warned, this isn't exactly indoor friendly," You heft your bulk in your arms, letting bounce back down like a soft wrecking ball. "You got it man." K.C. says giving you a thumbs up. You pay for the meal, going back out to the truck and loading up. K.C. take you to an apartment flat. You look at the front door on the second floor.

"I'm not so sure about this," you say, "Am I even going to be able to fit?" Your not even sure the floors will hold. "It'll be fine," K.C. says. Sighing, you work your way up the stairs, huffing and puffin from the effort, the iron stairwell squeaking as you bring down each foot. The walkway feels narrow to you, as your sides squeeze up against the wall and guardrails. When you get to the door, your concerns are justified in that you are too wide. "Seriously, I don't think this is a great idea," you say, as K.C. greases the doorframe with butter. "Naw, I got this," he says, pulling you forward.

You feel your sides squeeze as he pulls, and you push with your legs, rolls bunching up on the outside of the door. You brace your arms against the wall and push, feeling bits of you slide through the greased frame until you are halfway through. But your rump sticks out, and you feel pinned. You push again with all your might, as K.C. braces his legs and pulls.

Suddenly, there is a massive 'CRACK' and you feel the pressure loosen as the frame bows outward. You slide through, but the door looks the worse for ware, now sporting a 'pair shaped' opening. "Sorry," you say, "I warned you."

"It's fine, I can fix that up with some elbow greese." Says K.C. not even loosing a beat. "Come on, mi casa et su casa." He walks into the living room, where a beat up old couch sits. You opt for the floor, not wanting to crush his furniture, leaning back and resting your arms on the seat of the couch instead. K.C. sets up the video game before running in the kitchen and coming back with bowls of chips and a six pack of soda bottles. "Naw, I'm good," you say, figuring you've had enough. "For snackage," says K.C., grabbing a handful, "You know your going to get the munchies eventually." You leave it be and you two begin playing, you resting the controller against the curve of your stomach

Written by an anonymous author

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