Lethal Helpings

There once was a flabby piece of belly fat named Wigs.

 He dreamed of becoming the biggest and flabbiest of all the belly fats. Sometimes, at night, when his accommodator was asleep Wigs would whisper fat guy thoughts to him.
"Mmm, pie."
And sure enough, the next day the man would be eating pie and Wigs would expand and glorify.
However, one day Wigs discovered that no matter how much pie his accommodator ate, Wigs wouldn't grow any bigger.

 For all the glorious fat from said pie went to his arch nemesis Wurtah, his owner's flabby butt cheeks.

 He couldn't just dangle there idly and let all his hard-earned expansion fuel go to such an illiterate glutton.

During the night he called out to his buttocksical foe.

"I say, good sir knight! Have at you!"

As usual, the lousy bum pretended not to hear.

 "I say!" and he kicked Wurtah. Rather, he tried to, but a belly kicking a butt was never going to work.
Frustrated, he began plotting. Being the quick thinking piece of belly he was, it didn't take him long to come up with the answer.
He hired a really fucking good lawyer who trained under Saul Goodman and got that Wurtah dude shipped to Mexico.

 Wurtah was then replaced by the fit and firm Cpl. Sanchez, who never, ever observed the rules of battle. At first he seemed very out of place on this blob of a man, but Sanchez intended to whip this entire unit into shape.

 Wigs wasn't prepared to deal with someone so assertive. He just did as he was told, running through mud, climbing fences, assembling his rifle blindfolded. It was hard work.

 Before long he developed something like Stockholm Syndrome for the Cpl. But he made himself stop because that made him sound totally gay.

 So over time Wigs the biggest baddest belly fat in town became Wigs the slenderest and most tonediest of belly notfats. He didn't know what to do with himself. Gone were the days when he could turn on 'Dirty Beatz and Mofos' and jiggle up and down with the rhythm.
He wanted to start a new life away from here, and he wanted the Cpl. to come with him. It would be perfect, just a belly and a butt adventuring out the world together.
But Cpl. had other plans for Wigs.

"Wigs," said Sanchez.

"Yes, sir?" said Wigs dreamily.

"I've fallen for someone and I think it's time I settled down and got married."

"Yeeeees?"

 "I wanted to ask you if you'd... pick up the wedding cake for us. I'd do it myself, but you know me. I'm all buts."

 Wigs, always the dutiful one, did as he asked, but with visible wiltage (that'd make a good band name). The cake was decorated with rifles and fences, and Wigs welled up at the memories of the Cpl. shouting at him to move, move, move. Those were the days.
When he got back, he found the Cpl. waiting for him, but no ladywoman in sight.
"What do you think of the cake?" said Sanchez while smoking a cigarette and looking like a hot imprisoner.

 "Looks delicious, sir," he said butt-kissingly. "So who's the lucky... er... person?"

"I am," said a seductively leathery voice.

 It was the seat of a bicycle their gelatinous owner rode.

 "We met shortly after I moved here," said the Cpl. fondly. "You could say we've had plenty of... intimate contact."

They both giggled uncharacteristically.

 If Wigs had possessed a mouth he would have puked a little from the sickeningness of it. Also jealousy. The only thing he ever got shmoodged up against was the ice cream shop window.

 Then some marrying happened and Cpl. Sanchez packed up his bags and moved away with Sleazy McHunkthief.

 And in a shocking plot development, Wigs' old frienemy Wurtah was brought in to fill the position again. And by fill, I mean completely fill.

"Look spry, men! We have a bloating rendezvous at oh oh hundred hours!"

 Wigs couldn't move on. Cpl. Sanchez had made an irrevocable change to his life. After several years he decided to track him down. He told himself he just wanted to see if he was happy.

 On his journey to hunt down this beautiful specimen of hiney, he ran out of money. The only solution he could think of was to rob a bank. So he did.

And wouldn't you know it? Cpl. Sanchez was at that very same moment robbing the very same bank.

But seeing as how they were both wearing masks, they didn't recognize each other.

 They made eye contact with each other. Wigs needed this money to find his hero. Sanchez needed this money to cure all the diseases he'd picked up from the bike seat.

 It was clear to all watching that one of them would have to die...

 And then, just as it seemed like everything would end in tragedy, Cpl. Sanchez gave one of his characteristic involuntary twitches. He'd picked them up in his Cpl. training after an even bossier hotter imprisoner had given him daily beatings.
Wigs knew that twitch anywhere. He'd come to love it and think of it as quirky. He tore off his mask and said, "Cpl. Sanchez!"

 "Rrghfksht... What the hell is wrong with you?! Don't use my real name!"

"Oops. Sorry."

 So the two of them were easily tracked down and arrested.

 They were put in a cell together. Wigs couldn't be happier. The Cpl. was less than enthused.

 Wurtah had no strong feelings one way or the other.

The end