Matt: Fatso, or, as Nazi Ernest calls him, ďMr. Big Fatso,Ē has sold Barb, Axel an Cora D out to the Notzis for a huge payday...Willis, upset about what happened to Charlie, puts a grenade in Barbís hand instead of cuffing her. She throws it straight into the air and it blows up Big Fatsoís crotch. Thatís straight-up sizeism.
Chris: I canít even figure out what is happening anymore.
I used to say that there were five different levels of fatness — the original five are 'big', 'healthy', 'husky', 'fluffy', and 'Daaayum!'. People asked, what could be bigger than 'Daaayum!'? The new level is called 'Aw, HELL naw!'
The sergeant turned to Polly and grinned, which made his scars move oddly and caused a tremor to shake all his chins. The word "fat" could not honestly be applied to him, not when the word "gross" was lumbering forward to catch your attention. He was one of those people who didn't have a waist. He had an equator. He had gravity. If he fell over, in any direction, he would rock.
— Monstrous Regimentnote
So I surrounded myself with some unusual cats
There was skinny little Goebbels and Goering, Mr. Fats.