Fatty Patty: Jumbo Love Doll

by Joe Fusco Jr.

MY SON AND I work for a small, family-owned company. I am recovering from hip surgery so my co-workers sent my son home with some get-well presents. There was a gift basket that included a bottle of wine, fine cheeses and meats, and gourmet cookies.

"How thoughtful," I remarked. "I wonder what's in the little box?"

It was a tube of surgical lubricant.

"Oh boy!" my wife, who manages a doctors' office, remarked.

A third gift remained. My family hovered around the kitchen table in confused anticipation.

"Oh my!" remarked my 82-year-old mother, upon the opening of the gift.

Staring at me with sultry, hazel eyes was "Fatty Patty: Jumbo Love Doll. She's Large and She's in Charge!"

"Who's that?" my 11-year-old son inquired.

"Just a relative of Daddy's," I replied.

I put Patti and the lube in the bedroom closet and called the store manager of our company.

"Gary, that was a fabulous gift basket, just unbelievable. And who do I thank for Patty?"

"Me. I got it as a grab gift at a Xmas party and re-gifted her to you," he laughed.

"She's not used?," I worried.

"Oh no, she's untouched. I was supposed to warn you not to open it in front of the boys," he remembered.

"Too late. Dustin thinks he has a new aunt," I replied.

"Fatty Patty" was purchased at Spencer Gifts for $19.99. She was made in China, and I wonder what those Chinese factory workers think when one of these novelty gifts rolls down the Peking assembly line: "America — Home of the free . . . and Jumbo Love Dolls!"

The woman who portrays "Fatty Patty" on the box has her brown hair in an upsweep, a cute pug nose, red pouty lips, and a somewhat defiant stare backed up by approximately 350 pounds of flesh. She's undoubtedly pissed at the stereotypical bio that's written right above her upsweep: "Her blood type is Ragu. She has to iron her pants in the driveway. More rolls than a bakery and more chins than a Chinese phone book, etc."

And they also promise three Colossal Love Holes!

I have a confession to make: I've always been fond of Rubenesque women but strictly from an artistic and aesthetic sense and never as part of any bar-room banter with my co-workers.

"Maybe you went out for a few drinks and started to spiel about belly hair and chipped toe-nail polish and your other . . ., " my wife theorized.

"I am an innocent man!" I replied.

In the interest of objective reporting and, of course, science, my sons-in-law and I blew up "Fatty Patty" while my wife and daughters were at a play. It took twenty-three minutes with a foot-pump before the contours of the "Jumbo Love Doll" emerged.

"The room stinks of plastic," my son-in-law Anthony exclaimed.

"The perfume of love," I replied.

The following is a detailed analysis of the workable components of "Fatty Patty," a.k.a. "Jumbo Love Doll": First of all, the blow-up looks nothing like the pouty vixen who's featured on the box. The doll's hair is orange and plastered to her skull. The eyes and double-chin are just sketched in and the mouth (that first non-colossal love hole) just makes her look very angry.

"Man, this plastic smell is nauseating," my son-in law Timmy exclaimed.

"We must push on — for science' sake," I replied.

The doll has very large, orange breasts with suction-cup nipples. Its body extends straight-down with little hip-action until it stops at the second non-colossal love hole. Flipping it around, one finds a total dearth of bubble-ass to contain the third non-colossal love hole.

"Disappointing," we three scientists concurred.

Only one task remained. Remember, we're scientists or, at least, objective reporters, for Christ's sake.

Before my wife and daughters returned from Mama Mia, we dressed "Fatty Patty" in a pair of black furry boots and a purple silk scarf. We propped her by the red front door to greet our returning mates.

"Like this is a surprise," my wife ho-hummed upon their return. "Just hide her before the boys come down in the morning. Who drew belly-hair on the doll?"

"I am an innocent man," I replied.

 
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