Big guys

They go round and round, showing off their new bride, their new ride. Flashing their cash at whoever’s watching. “Those huge sunglasses on that nose, won’t cover up for the emptiness inside that head of yours, you know”. You know what they say sometimes: “Giant SUVs are not only for tight-minded people”. Well, they most often are. And he drives around, cruising the town like a lion its pack of lionesses: as a conqueror.

Big guys like things big, you’ll say “easy one!”. Big watch at their wrists, big diamond rings at their girlfriend’s fingers, big house with swimming pool, six-cars garage, jacuzzi, king-size beds and king-size fridge. They would eat as much as a whole village of Ethiopians would eat, drink the same amount of alcohol as a Siberian middle town and smoke not, because smoking is bad for your health. Junk food and booze aren’t, the government didn’t tell them so.

Big guys are quite often small in size but their ego goes out both windows of their ultra-large-wheeled pick-up trucks. Their friends call them Eddy or Bobby or Tony or even Rocky, their girlfriends and wives babe or honey. Their entourage seems to exist for the sole reason of money and profit. Big guys are alone in the end, spread on that king-size mattress, obese, diabetic and dying of liver failure. Who’s the big guy now?