The Food Truck Experiment

Fat acceptance on wheels baby. Are you hungry now?

Check out my new ride. I had to finance that bitch, and use my house as collateral, but fuck that place. This is better than a house, it’s a fornication fortress on wheels. It was worth all the trouble. Since I’ve purchased this foodtruck and acquired my business license, I’ve seen my notch count go up and way out the ball park. It’s the perfect bait to get the whales out of the ocean. From feedin’ to breedin’, I left them fatties bleedin’. Every step of the way my man, got the right plan. Let me lay it out.

After getting a business loan from the bank, I walked out like a boss. I could hear Rick Ross music playing in the background, I knew I had it made. After getting that squared away, I went to my friend and bought the truck, got the windows tinted, and bought industrial grade cooking supplies, appliances, and lots of food. Also had to get extra suspension and support beams welded on the bottom of the truck to support extra weight (you should know why).

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Nigel, why didn’t you just get an ice cream truck? Wouldn’t that be easier and cheaper?” The problem with the ice cream truck is that it attracts more kids, and I’m not running Michael Jackson game here, so fuck that idea. Kids just get in the way. Also, try fucking a big girl in an ice cream truck: all the ice cream would melt at the very least, and my accountant would beat my ass for something like that. I chose the food truck because It allows me show off my gourmet cooking prowess, which really reels in the big game bitches. Finally, foodtrucks are bigger than ice cream trucks, so there’s more room to fuck.

So the point of the food truck is not merely to fatten my wallet by feeding hoes, no. It is about that next level, 2.0 game and logistics. It’s attraction and seduction (feeding and breeding) all in one place, on wheels, and in my control as the owner. Everywhere I stop I pop (ass) like you put poptarts in a toaster. It feels like cheating actually. Some locations I park at and serve ’em up: in front of the the dollar store, Rent-A-Center, Walmart parking lot, in front of first-cash-advance/checks cashed locations, and in front of grocery stores. The latter is one of the absolute best places to set up shop because when fat women go grocery shopping, they get hungry looking at all that food. They can’t eat the groceries until they buy them and get back home. That’s where chef Nigel comes in with the food truck and facilitates their need to feed. Oink Oink baby.

As you can see from the picture, I specialize in gourmet soulfood, but with a modern twist: like fried chicken sandwiches (in between cornbread-waffles), fried cornbread biscuits with secret sauce, fried corn on the cobs, fried chicken with beer batter, popcorn shrimp gumbo, and pizza. As you can see, I love cooking. I love serving food to fat women, seeing the look on their eyes — It’s like Christmas. Little do they know how much blood and sweat, and love I put into their food. It gives each dish extra flavor, that secret sauce. That’s when I wink back at them as I see them get all that food, that secret sauce all up in their mouth. A tent pops up in my pants. Once they get a taste of my flavor, my spice, they’re immediately hungry for more: all I have to do is shift gears.That’s when I serve dessert, “baby, that cornbread-waffle fried chicken sandwich was heavy, you should wash it down with some dick.”

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