Rocket has finally made it to Christmas, with a belly like a bowl full of way too much jelly. He's too big to handle, and may just stick around for every last Christmas dinner leftover he can find. Rocket smacked his enormous, roiling gut, letting a violently loud belch escape as he did. The dimensions of the raccoon beggared belief; his enormous belly sprawled out on the floor like a tidal wave made of gelatin, smothering his keg-sized, blubbery thighs and weighing down on a rear large enough to crush the Milano. Reams of back fat were piled on top of one another like a melting wedding cake, his flabby arms were wrapped in thick reams of fat, and his chest was like a pair of overstuffed pillows, plumped and fluffed. Rings of extra chins met his jaw and round cheeks, with Rocket licking off chocolate frosting from his sausage fingers.