Getting Close to the Island
We were sailing close to the island, close enough to spot the Graveyard of Fat Men — entrance requirement for which being that you had to tip the scales at 300 pounds minimum. Heaven only knows what attracted those long-gone fatsos to this godforsaken tropical “paradise”. I guess the over-the-hill whores with their shrill voices, painted faces, and cadaverous grins seemed enticing to them in their day.
Me, I don't have to worry about ending up in that cemetery for the lard set. I weigh in at a lean 130 lb., not an ounce of fat to spare. Don't eat much and sweat a lot, that's the ticket. My whole crew is like that — trim and tough, and we run a tight ship. We do our work and have no truck with those tired damn whores on the island. Not tempted at all, not even in our weakest moments.