Yuri weighed 1,000 pounds. The man ate all day and night. Never slept. Only snoozed for minutes at a time. The poor man had so many bags under his eyes, one could store artillery inside them.

Clothing Yuri was impossible. The only thing that fit him was a 20 foot sail that his muscly brother, Anton, stole off a boat. The owner of the sailboat filed a report with the police. Surveillance cameras showed Anton lugging the sail into his car and then driving off. Police picked Anton up and threw him into a musty, dimly lit room.

“Ya sold it?” the detective interrogated.

“Of course, I did. Needed the money.”

“And who’d you sell it to?”

“Can’t remember. It was night. Everything I do is at night.”

“Right.” The detective scribbled notes in his legal pad. “Man or woman?”

“Androgynous.”

“Androgynous?”

“Seriously, I couldn’t tell.”

Anton was imprisoned for a year where, for the most part, he paced his cell worrying about his brother’s wellbeing. How in the fuck will Yuri eat? The man had to roll himself to the bathroom and then piss in a sideways facing commode. Their younger sister was around but she was too busy getting fucked at nightclubs. Selfish bitch.

The year in prison was hard on Anton. Inmates knocked him around, busting his lip open a few times. The prison guards dribbled scalding oatmeal on his back. He only made one friend in the prison but that person hung himself in the tenth month of Anton’s sentence.

Once released, Anton hitched a ride back to Yuri’s. He didn’t go up right away. Instead, he paid a visit to a deli. Ordered two turkey sandwiches. Ate one on a park bench. The other was for his brother.

Anton banged on his brother’s door.

“Yuri,” he hollered.

Some nimble being hopped on the hardwood floor and yanked the door open. It was a tanned brunette wearing what looked like a homemade bikini.

“I’m Ursula,” she grinned.

“Ursula, hi. Is my brother here?”

“Oh my gosh,” she climbed his chest and wrapped her thin arms around him. “You’re Anton. Welcome home. Come in.” Ursula lowered herself to the ground and grabbed his hand. “Your brother will be thrilled to see you. He’s in the shower right now.”

“The shower,” his eyebrows furrowed. “How’d you get him in there?”

“You silly,” she slapped him in the gut. “He got himself in there.”

“Wow, that’s unusual…”

“Is it?” She smirked. “How do you get in the shower?”

“Touché.” My god, Anton thought, what a lovely girl. How in hell did she wind up in my brother’s apartment?

“What you got there?” She pointed at the turkey sandwich.

“Oh, it’s for my brother.”

“Only for your brother? Not for me too?”

“Well,” Anton stammered. “I guess you two can share it.”

“May I smell it?” She grabbed the turkey sandwich out his hand and then knocked him to the ground.

Anton went in and out of consciousness.

Paper rustled in his ear.

Then loud grunts.

Snorts.

Blood trickled down his head.

Turkey debris sprayed everywhere.

Deep sighs.

“Let me get you a blanket,” she growled.

Sudden warmth.

A fit man wrapped in a towel hovered over Anton.

“Why hello there, Anton,” the fit man said.

That was the last Anton saw until later that night.