A short tale on hams threatened by everyday exercise What follows does not offer any new twists on the now familiar obeast tale, but I feel it should be added to the voluminous tales we share here on FPH, for posterity's sake or something. I work a second job for four hours on Sunday. I don't have a car and since I only live two miles from this place of employment I decided to take advantage of my city's bike share system and relatively cool night to bike home. About a quarter of a mile from my house a early 2000s black Dodge Dakota filled by three noticeably obese femayos of a complexion darker than my own passes by me around 35 mph. The apparent leader femayo screams out the passenger window at me, "GET ON THE BIKE PATH". Mind you, I am in a very clearly marked bike lane in one of the most bike-friendly metropolitan areas in the country. There were at least three other cyclists in sight at that very moment. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. It quickly dawned on me that the thin hiking pants and tight t-shirt I was wearing offered tantalizing glimpses of my svelte and built physique, honed by manual labor (both jobs!) and religious thrice weekly weight training, which naturally triggered them because they look like nothing more than sacks of something unfortunate. Heartened by my sense of community I have found here on FPH I fill up my asthmatic lungs and bellow after them, "FAAAAATTTTTTTTT". Five seconds or so go by with them speeding away until one of them screams back at me "FATTIE" as they turn the corner onto a main street and disappear into the night.  Witty fuckers these obeasts. TLDR: Fat bitches yell at me on my bike, only wish I'd fuck their boyfriends so they could get me secondhand, which I wouldn't do because they're fat fucks too.