"I'm not going in there!" Last week my son's elementary school did some kind of after-school carnival thing.  One of the most popular attractions they had was an inflatable obstacle course like this one. I have two sons, the younger of which is 3.  He wanted to do this thing so bad, but he was too little to get over the obstacles so I went in with him and did it.  I'm a very average-sized person.  I'm a little shy of 5'9".  I weigh somewhere in the area of 160.  30" waist, cause you know, BMI is inaccurate for athletes blah blah blah. I gotta tell you shitlords, those little entry tunnels are not easy to worm through as an adult.  I had to make sure to get some momentum so I could get my arms through to the other side and pull myself through. Anyway, I do it once with my son and naturally he wants to do it again, so we go back in line.  Suddenly the sky darkens and out of the corner of my eye I see a bridge troll who looked almost exactly like this piece of shit waddle to the back of the line with his young daughter.  She was not much bigger than my son (i.e., way too small to navigate these obstacles). There's a Dominos on-site selling pizzas.  This fucker naturally has an entire medium pizza and I shit you not... he was actually doing this thing. His surprisingly not-fat little girl was looking at this thing and realizing she was too little to even climb up into the entrance chute and said in the sweet innocent pleading that only a child whose understanding of physics smaller than the tiniest morsel of pizza left unconsumed by the mozzarella golem at her side could ask: "Daddy, will you go in with me?" Before she even got her sentence out, he looked off to the side.  He couldn't bare to make eye contact as he sneered in his toughest in tough-guy voices: "I aint' goin' in there!"  His tone and demeanor as he dismissed his daughter disgusted me.  Of course he ain't goin' in there.  Hell, I could barely fit through those tubes and although I was slightly taller than fatso, he was at least twice my girth.  Probably more. I helped my son up through the chute.  Fatso stood there with pizza in hand while his daughter struggled to get into the chute to my left.  I did what any normal human would do and helped her up.  I then followed my son into our chute, and proceeded to help my own son and the little girl up over the obstacles.  When we took the exit slide out, fatso had waddled over to the end, in the typical fat-guy pose: arms crossed over his moobs, feet as wide apart as possible, duck footed.  His little girl thanked me.  He said nothing.  He looked away to the side and down at the ground, and hurriedly shepherded his daughter toward the food truck.  I shamed him by being the father he can't be.  As he wandered away I heard the words "ice cream." Fats ruin everything, including their own children.