T.O.M. The Obese Man

It was a very normal day, and Tom Gutter had intended it to remain that way for the rest of the day. He had gotten out of bed at noon as usual. He had eaten his late breakfast and early lunch thirty minutes later as usual. And of course, he had already planted his rear end on the couch for another day of TV programmes marathon as usual, when Mrs Gutter squawked at him to get his lazy butt into the car and drive her to the gynaecologist's clinic.

Rumbling, grumbling and growling a few of his choicest swear words, he clicked the remote and made his first attempt to get up from the sofa, but failed dramatically as his legs gave in and his buttocks collapsed back unto the sofa with the force of a small bomb. There was a loud creak followed by the sound of something breaking from inside the sofa, and the middle of the sofa gave way to Tom's bottom. Mrs Gutter sighed and looked out the window to the porch where another broken sofa was waiting for the garbage truck as she made a mental change to her shopping list.

Fifteen minutes later, with much heaving and grunting on both their parts, Tom finally managed to detach himself from the sofa and stand on his feet. Five minutes was the time he took to waddle and plod his way to the front door. Four minutes and fifty seconds was the time he took to get himself through the door frame, with Mrs Gutter attempting to help by running back and forth from the door and ramming her small frame against his colossal figure. Six minutes and forty-three seconds was the time it took for Tom to squash himself into the driver's seat of the car, and his wife to seat herself on the back seat in the corner opposite of Tom. Twenty seconds was the time it took to drive across the road to Doc Daneeka's clinic.

An hour later, Tom and Mrs Gutter were in the waiting area of the clinic. Waiting.

Mrs Gutter bit her nails nervously and kept flicking her eyes to the clock on the wall every few seconds. She would jump with shock everytime the door popped open, and sink back into her nervous stupor when the nurse yelled somebody elses' name.

Tom, on the other hand, was feeling extremely bored. He had tried to kill time by glaring and muttering at the kids who gawked at the sight of his bottom drooping over the two plastic seats he was occupying, but they ended up running back to their mothers in tears. Predictably, he had once again single-handedly cleared the vicinity of everyone but his wife.

Another half hour ticked by. Tom started excavating his nose, flicking his product randomly. Mrs Gutter glared at him as one of it stuck to her skirt.

Finally, just as the clock struck four, the door opened, and the nurse poked her head out to stare at the only remaining people in the waiting area: Tom and Mrs Gutter.

'Mr Gutter, please step inside,' barked the nurse. 'No, not you Mrs Gutter, just your husband.' she added to Mrs Gutter, who had already risen before she finished her sentence.

Mrs Gutter's face fell, and she walked back to her seat like a dejected puppy. Tom, however, was annoyed that he had to go in instead of her. Five minutes later, Mrs Gutter sunk back into her reverie as the nurse closed the door.

The room was painted white, and everything else in the room was either silver or transparent. It was designed to build confidence in those who stepped inside. A beaker of filled syringes stood on the doctor's table, with the label "Sedatives", and a strait jacket lay crumpled on a chair in the corner.

Doc Daneeka blinked at Tom as he waddled from the door to his desk. Tom seated himself in front of the doctor, and glared sullenly at him.

'You are Mr Gutter, I believe? Yes?' began Doc Daneeka inquiringly.

Tom grunted.

Doc Daneeka coughed a few times before continuing.

'I called you in because I have some bad news, and I thought it would be better if it came from you. Yes? No?'

Tom grunted impatiently again.

'Well, geez Doc, just spit it out will ya?' grumbled Tom with a scowl. 'Do you think we ordinary people don't have better things to do with our time than freezing away in your waiting area? Countdown's on Channel 5 in half an hour, for heaven's sake!' he ended with a yell.

'Well, yes yes yes, my apologies, Mr Gutter. I guess I better get to the point then, shall I? Yes, no?' said Doc Daneeka.

Tom glared back in reply.

'Well, how should I put this,' coughed Doc Daneeka. 'The thing is, Mr Gutter, I'm sorry to say that your wife, well, she cannot conceive. Yes.' Doc Daneeka looked at Tom with a pitiful expression.

Tom blinked. 'What?'

Doc Daneeka bit down an impatient sigh. 'She cannot get pregnant. She cannot bear your child. Understand? Yes, no?'

'Oh, is that it?' snorted Tom. 'Well, thanks for wasting my time, doc. I've spent time better counting cornflakes in a box if you ask me.'

Doc Daneeka sighed and shook his head.

'Anyway, break it to her gently, yes? She will not like to hear this. That is why I called you in and not her, yes?'

*

Mrs Gutter jumped as the door opened. She quickly got up and took Tom's hand in both of her own, and fixed him with expectant eyes. Tom thought he detected a hint of desperation in them.

Clearing his throat, Tom wondered how he should rephrase his sentences and words to blunt the effect on his wife. He thought carefully for half a minute before replying.

'Hun,' said Tom tentatively. 'The doc said that you're inconceivable.'

'What?!' squawked Mrs Gutter. A hurt expression appeared in her eyes that Tom couldn't attribute to anything.

'No, wait a minute... Oh yeah, he said you're impregnable.' said Tom confidently.

Shock and surprise hit Tom as his face caught Mrs Gutter's full-armed slap a second later. Shaking his head a couple of times, Tom looked at his wife, and felt his heart tear at the sight of tears on her cheeks.

'Hun... I'm sorry,' said Tom softly as he used a thumb to rub the tears off her cheek. Mrs Gutter pushed his hand away, and turned away from him.

Silently cursing himself, Tom tried to remember the exact words Doc Daneeka used. Come on Tom, think!

'Eureka!' yelped Tom. 'That's it, hun. He said you're unbearable!'