that smarts...

Damn the tie. Damn the Duke of Windsor, that uppity moron. Why would one, cut the blood supply to one’s own face in the name of fashion? If it were up to me, I’d come to the office in a robe and bathroom slippers. However, no was giving me that much importance so I merely slapped my face several times to get the circulation going.
There I was slapping the bejeesus out of my face when a middle aged plump lady walked into the bank. After whaling herself through the front door, she decided to cross her legs very tightly and realised only after a while that she was standing in the middle of the hall and had informed everyone of her bloated bladder. However, this did not deter her in the least and she hastened her way to the ‘whale’s room.’ ‘Its natural’, I thought in her defence and with a shrug of the shoulders continued my slapping. It was quite a while before she came out and approached my counter with an inquisitive expression. I paused my slapping.
“Young man, what brand of toilet paper do you people use?”
A seemingly innocent chuckle escaped my lips. The expression on the middle aged, plump lady whale changed. Her eyes became twice their size, deep lines appeared on her forehead and she started to speak like one of those vibrating blenders making yummy strawberry milkshake.

“OBESITY IS A DISEASE, NOT A CONSCIENCE CHOICE. IM NOT FAT, JUST BIG BONED!! WOULD YOU MAKE FUN OF A GUY IN A WHEELCHAIR?”
She didn’t even wait for an explanation. What good would it have been, she probably spoke whale, anyway. Coincidentally, it felt like being smacked by a dead fish. The noise of the slap resounded loudly and as the piscine human left I thought to myself,
“That should really get the blood flowing.”