Tell one of them you're walking home, and you might as well be saying you're going on a gulag march. So I'm taking a cpr-c course a little bit outside of town.  It's a prerequisite for some certifications I'll be taking later in the year, and I figured I'd get it out of the way now, instead of doing it all at once.  A little bit of prep work for the more intense stuff to come, if you will. I arrive a little early, and am greeted by the instructor.  She tells me to sit where I want, and asks why I'm there today.  I tell her about the certifications I will be taking, and she seems genuinely interested.  We talk about our various routines.  She tells me about living in the country and going for 5am runs, and I tell her about being the Shittiest Runner in the Worldtm and preferring to wake up a bit later and just test the earth's gravitational pull on heavy objects. Everything is quite nice until the instructor looks up, as if she's felt a disturbance in the force, scrunches her face, and mutters "here they come." I turn around in my human sized chair, and, for a brief moment, wonder if I've been caught at ground zero of an actual zombie apocalypse, but no... no, I realize quickly, this isn't dawn of the dead.  It's more like, dawn of the barely living, and the death rattles and wheezing I've just heard were not those of hunger for flesh and brains, just for another sip of beetus and a chair for each ass cheek. Seriously guys.  Some of these waddlers had to actually take two chairs, while the rest of them were spilling out on either side as if their fat was some sort of high viscosity fluid.  I gagged.  The instructor made a face.  We knew.  We fucking knew. They all eventually sat down, and once the room stopped sounding like a dozen Darth Vader impersonators all practicing their trade, we went to the introductions.  The fatties were all there for nursing.  I shit you not.  Every fucking single one of them would open their monologue with a version of "Well, I'm studying to... wheeze ...be a nurse... wheeze" ...remind me to try and avoid any hospitals about five years from now.  Especially if these food rapists are the ones doing triage, because they'd probably decide that the caloric abortions with low shugas and empty pizza boxes are in more distress than the ones with injured limbs. Anyway, once it's my turn, I introduce myself, say why I'm here, and where I'm from, and sit back down.  The pork orc next to me asks "how long was the drive?" ...I tell it "maybe 6 minutes.  I dunno, I wasn't driving.  My wife dropped me off on her way to work."  Perplexed, future nurse ham asks "...is she coming to pick you up? ...these courses usually end early, you know" ...I tell nurse porky that I'm well aware of that, and that I'll be walking home, and making a detour at the used book shop in town, 'cause they're holding an old book for me. At this evil revelation, future nurse snackatha snorts.  She literally snorts... I can't make this shit up... and says "figures you're so skinny" ...spoiler alert: I'm 5'10"/155 (that's about 178cm/70kg in socialism units)... I'm not skinny... just not a whale... and fatty continues "if I ever had to walk that far, I'd probably kill myself." Now, if you've read my previous stories, you'll know that I have little filter between brain and mouth.  And if you haven't read my previous stories, I have little filter between brain and mouth.  Anyway, I could only stay quiet long enough to give it the "puppy being taught quantum mechanics" look before I said "Well you're doing a fine job killing yourself with food, so I wouldn't worry about that." Future nurse fatty didn't speak to me for the rest of the course.  I now have my cpr-c for the next three years, and future nurse fatty has to REEEEEEtake the course, at future nurse fatty's own expense.  It tried to oink something about being triggered and distracted, so it couldn't concentrate on the material being presented, but the instructor was having none of it.  Bless her shitlordy heart.