On the latest episode of the hit reality show The Real Idols Of America Got Voices, the whole world held its breath, then quietly vomited in their mouths, when Jerry Burgle took the stage. At 450lbs and with a face that only a mother could use to fend off wild animals, everyone naturally assumed that Jerry was there to commit suicide on live television after accidentally catching a glimpse of himself in a puddle of grease that was also his breakfast that morning. But then the man-o-lard started to sing.
The dulcet voice that came out of Jerry Burgle’s disgusting mouth (which you could just tell smelled of Ranch) stunned everyone into complete silence. As he cried out a beautiful Italian aria, the hot-dog-shaped folds on his neck vibrating with the tune, you felt like you were in the presence of an angel; a morbidly-obese angel that’s so revoltingly ugly, he could give a blind person a heart attack, but an angel nonetheless. As the floorboards underneath Jerry creaked and started to bend due to his mass and the barrels of sweat he was drenching them in, the Three Tenors In One swung his gigantic, flappy arms open, most likely causing a devastating hurricane a few counties down. And that’s when the audience’s silence was broken and everyone started clapping and cheering for the contestant.
Suddenly, they no longer saw a convincing argument for eugenics or 40th trimester abortions. They saw Jerry Burgle for the beautiful soul that he is, a soul trapped underneath what looked to them like half a ton of spoiled goat cheese in an old burlap sack. They no longer cared that every time Jerry smiled, a puppy somewhere killed itself. It no longer mattered that his mother was probably telling people she lost Jerry at infancy due to all the crack she had been doing because that was somehow less embarrassing than owning up to him.
The only thing important at the time of Jerry Burgle’s big finale, was the fact that this mistake of nature has proven that you should never judge a book by its disgusting cover.