"I'm going to Barry this afternoon," said Mark to his son, "He's having a roast and I'm invited."
Sam grinned. "Oh, really?" he said, "Well, make sure you stick to the salad and avoid the stacks. A few more pounds and we'll have to go out shopping for new clothes for you."
Mark just rolled his eyes at his son's mockery. Though, he had to admit, Sam was right; his ball of a belly was getting bigger everyday - currently at the size of a basket ball - and doing a mundane task as shopping for clothing was becoming a challenge.
But Mark wasn't going to miss out on a chance to try out one of Barry's steaks, soaked in special home-made marinade his wife Betty was a master at preparing. He really needed to get that recipe for it. He dug into his light breakfast.
XxxxxX
A while later, at 1:30 p.m., after showering and dressing himself in a pair of tight jeans, a buttoned shirt, and a vest, Mark was on his way to Barry in his car, searching for his house in this quiet neighborhood. It wasn't hard to find it, though. At three storeys it stood out from the rest of the middle-class houses.
Being a senior manager at a big insurance company, Barry had quite a lot of money, and, through the recent years, it has been showing on Mark's longtime friend's frame.
An obstacle presented itself in a form of a steel gate. All around Barry's house were stone walls, enclosing the building and making it look like some sort of castle. Security cameras were mounted on the walls, watching him like Big Brother.
"Rich people always want to show how much money they have," thought Mark.
After pressing a button on a metal stand, the metal gate slid open and Mark drove inside. He was greeted warmly by Barry when Mark climbed out of his car.
Like always, Barry had that bizarre ability to look bigger every time Mark saw him. He also had a habit to dress himself in some sort of tight clothing; right now he was wearing a tight blue shirt, which emphasized his swelling gut very well, over a pair of white trousers.
"I hope you saved some room for the roast," said Barry as he was leading his friend inside.
"O, don't worry," said Mark, patting his rumbling stomach when he smelled the rich aroma of the roasting steak, "I saved plenty of room."
Inside he was greeted by Betty, a short, plump women with sandy-blond hair, brown eyes and a friendly smile.
Mark hugged her with one strong arm, and she kissed him on his cheek, saying: "It's good to see you again, Mark."
"It's good to see you, too, Betty," Mark replied.
The grill was already lit awhile ago when Mark went into the backyard. Chairs surrounded it, set on a concrete platform. Some beers were set on the table and meat were sizzling over the fire.
Betty stayed inside the house, preparing other meals. Mark sat on one of the leather chairs and Barry was busy at the grill, flipping the meat. They began to talk, mostly about life at home and work. But soon the talk shifted to weight and health.
"I'm not that big, am I?" Barry asked, pausing his flipping to grab his belly and wobble it.
Mark shrugged. "When was the last time you were on a scale?" he said.
"A few weeks ago," Barry answered, "but when I checked it was 246 pounds."
"Do you want to go check?" Mark offered.
What was Barry's answer?
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