S.H.I.T.B.A.G.
The truck slowed and pulled over. Jim waddled in and found the front seat had more than enough space to accomodate his swelling dimensions. He clambered in and blurted a moo as he sat on part of the swelling anatomy. He resituated himself and glanced over at his rescuer: He was a fairly non-descript man with brown hair and glasses. He wore a snazzy red and beige uniform with the name Joe August the Xth printed on it. He proffered a hand
"Howdy, ma'am. Just completing my route. Looks like you got yourself in trouble back at the carnival. I can drop you off on my way back to the station." He nodded down the road.
"That's exactly right. I didn't think anything like this," he gestured at the swelling mass of cow flesh, "could happen."
August smiled and nodded, "Seems most folks prefer the 'mistakes happen' approach. More fun to see someone stuck in a situation they don't want."
Jim looked confused, so the man continued, "I patrol this section of the VR making sure that the simulations conform to the requisite guidelines. If they don't, I can re-route 'em right back to the beginning. Seems that you, however," He nodded to Jim's bovine bag, now pressing against the glove compartment, "Meet at least the minimum qualifications."
The truck slowed and the door opened, "This should do you. Enjoy yourself, and keep the swellin' goin'."
Jim stood and stared as the truck disappeared around a bend.
Thu Aug 20 18:35:45 1998
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