Corpulent

'twas the night before Glutenmas, when all through the house, not a bagel was stirring, not even a corpulent spouse.

The corpulent woman wore a bow in her hair.

In my stint in Japan as a software engineer, I often ate lunch with my coworkers, like Tamaru-san, Matsuura-san, Takahashi-san, and Jeff who was a corpulent half-Japanese. The lunch could be ravishing bento boxes in the office or an outing to some beautiful restaurant.

In the late 1990s, I inherited an expensive black Australian Outback jacket from a slightly corpulent homestay Japanese student Hirotada, who stayed in my home on Lulu Island for five years. He was going to a college to learn English. It is really difficult for most Japanese to learn English, because the structure and usage are so different. They seldom fraternize with native Anglophones, because of an entirely different culture.

After lunchtime on the drizzling 28th of February of 2022, walking outside, I saw my corpulent white neighbour in black, as he walked, reminding me of fat Maitreya Buddha. At the main road, my stocky Mediterranean neighbour in jeans hosed his car tire. In the pizzeria, I had mushroom greens chicken pizza and a black effervescent drink. There were many handsome students, with titillating hairy legs.

On the 10th of March of 2022, I ate two pizza slices and drank iced tea at the Lulu Island pizzeria in the morning. The big screen showed Seattle news, but the sound was off, as usual. In the afternoon, I returned to the pizzeria to have a slice and an iced diet black cola. It was Seattle news, again, on the big screen, with sound off. Somewhat audible East Indian music was playing behind the counter. A boisterous corpulent East Indian man with his boy with a rocket-ship T-shirt ordered pizza. I walked to the cafe. At the cafe, I drank iced black tea. Behind the counter was Sebastian, the Mayan-Austrian hybrid. A big mesomorphic boy customer with something like a samurai hairdo entered. I had seen him before with his impressive meaty thighs, as he liked wearing shorts. Heading home, I observed through the window the new interesting products in the new Japanesque bakery with a bubble-tea vendor. I saw an elegant long bun with the price tag "$95"—or "$9.50"? Near the gasoline station, I saw the round-headed corpulent, but muscular man, who lived in a nearby apartment. I had seen him many times before, over the years, often with his little boy. He decried the ill sentiment in society: "They think sex is just poverty." In the alleyway, my Russian neighbour hastily passed by, whispering, "Everybody's just crying."

A corpulent man in his mid-forties entered the hall.

He was a squat, corpulent, middle-sized man, with something of the gentleman about him, and that peculiar mild tone—especially while he was inflicting punishment—which is so much more terrible to children than the angriest looks and gestures.

Tom is a corpulent man.

He's a tall and corpulent man.