Tomato Soup

Here is an example of some short fiction that I wrote at the conference and just typed up:

Tomato Soup

I sighed as the man came a halt again, this time, appartently, to examine different tomato soup brands. Some more politically correct person in my position might have called him “overwight” or “obese” or even morbidly obese, but, in truth, he was fat. Some people are acceptable members of society who happen to be a bit overweight, but this particular fellow was fat. Why? Because he was an obnoxiously fat person. He quite literally took up the whole grocery aisle and seemingly moved at the pace of a boulder rolling uphill. I was pretty sure I was being ever so subtly pulled into his gravity well. I feared that if I traveled behind him too long I would be locked in orbit until he either lost weight on his own or through posthumous decomposition.
I could have turned back long ago and circumvented the bipedal planet to reach my goal: breakfast cereal. Sadly, I was too headstrong to give up now. I had waited for the behemoth to reach the end of the aisle for nearly twenty minutes, and I was too close to my goal to stop now.
My heart leapt as he lurched into motion, not unlike a rusty train. Finally, I was closer to the last thing on my shopping list. My heart plunged into my stomach as he came to halt ten seconds later. Now I felt rage welling up again. I did what my therapist had told me to do.
Keep it under control, I silently told myself, gritting my teeth. Keep the rage under control.
I repeated these words in my head as the fat man calmly surveyed the contents of the shelf on our left. Struggling to keep my anger in check, I picked up a normal can of Campbell’s tomato soup and contemplated it’s destructive capabilities. It didn’t take me long to convince myself that violent force would be the easiest way to access my potential breakfast