In Defense of My Fat Comments: A Sonnet in Free Verse

I stand by my fat jokes. Edgah was nothing if not fat, and we would never have loved him if it were not for his lovable lack of neck and lisping overweightness that swooned Chloe into giving him the scrunched eyebrows of love. And to be honest, it might have been his fatness that killed him. Think about it: If Edgah was thin he would have been smoother with the ladies and never would have snapped at Carrie to go check it out herself. She wouldn't have even wanted to go check it out because of his shear animal magnetism. Then, even if she did go, he probably would have been too vain to care if she was ok. Finally, even if he had gone to see her, he probably could have hustled back to one of the safe rooms before they sealed up. He must have taken the route that the Huxley's took during that commercial break JKow was talking about. I wouldn't be surprised to find a 100 Grand bar in his shirt pocket when the nerve gas is cleared out. But you know what? That's why we love Edgah. I would expect no less from the brilliant eye candy (Whoppers) that is Edgah Stiles.

I predict the season will end with Jack and Tony and Chloe and Audrey and Kim's corpse (which Barry will be dancing with) all partying together in CTU and David Palmer, George Mason, and Edgah Stiles' ghosts will be hovering over Star Wars style, smiling and laughing it up and tag-teaming (Battle Royale-ing?) Michelle Desler while Tony grinds with two girls he picked up at Burning Man. And, oh yes, Jack. Jack will be there, smiling on the outside, but preparing on the inside. Preparing to fight the danger that lurks around every corner. But remember: 90 degree angles are only curves that Jack Bauer made fall in line.

Keep It Jack,
Witz