Fatty Bobsticks

Diary

Fatty Bobsticks did not inherit the garden from Fat Bob, he conquered it, and he wants that distinction carved into the koi pond stones. He was mid-brag to Edmundo about discipline, about how he meditates now, when a snake slithered across the gravel like it hadn't read the new management's rules, and Fatty ended its whole bloodline with one boastful, off-balance stomp that he insists was a technique and not a stumble. Edmundo just stared, the way people used to stare at Fat Bob, and Fatty hated that, hated being compared to a shadow even in silence, so he flexed harder and called the kill a lineage move passed down through samurai blood that definitely skipped several unimpressive generations. Word got around Nagoya fast, and now that snake's spirit, or maybe just its reputation, is out there hustling on the corner selling itself for scraps, which Fatty finds hilarious because at least the snake found a hustle, unlike him, who swore off gambling on Tuesday and lost a week's ramen money on cricket fights by Thursday. He tells anyone who'll listen that he is his own man, not Fat Bob's echo, then goes and drinks in the exact same teahouse Fat Bob used to haunt, ordering the exact same sake, insisting the resemblance is coincidence.