Not a story about a clown

Run! Run! As fast as you can! Don't look now, it's a really fat man!
He charges down the street, with tears on his feet. As he yells:
"I'd rather eat a sock with mayo, then a cauldron with Jello!"
So he charges down the street, with an inelegant might.
When suddenly, comes a rancid looking thing, for a fight.

"Well hello there my good fellow" says the disorderly young cello.
"I believe I heard you say, you don't like Jello?"

But the fat man just could not hear. As he bleated, kicked and jeared.
And away went the disorderly young cello. With an earful, of  Othello. 
Yes the very play from Shakespeare himself.
Of which the fat man, knew squelch.
But none the less he used it good, and he used it well!
Until the poor little cello, was like an old man. All wrinkly, do tell.

This fat man was now going nuts, nothing could stop his incongruous guts.
Poring out the street, like a wave of pink.
Except it crushed everything and kinda went "squink"
This rather large man just began to grow and grow.
Until a little girl popped up, dressed like a crow.

"ka kaw" quoth-ed the girl. And "ka kaw" she did right.
But that just wasn't enough, to halt this fat mans plight.
The almost gelatinous substance, washed over the town.
Thorough and precise, reminiscent of a dirty clown.
(who just so happened to clean with poop.
Yes, a rather messy tale, filled with torture, and goop.)

Could nothing stop this rounder then average joe?
Not a school teacher, a fireman, or even a street vendor, with a strangely shaped toe!?
No one will be safe, once the fat man has expanded.
No one will have cake, until the fat man has been branded
(deceased, or at the very least, been horribly disbanded).

And now I suppose you're wondering what happened,
To this porker of a ham?
Well... He kinda just popped.
and so ends the story.
Of some really fat man.

Why?

If a word were a word and that word's a certain word. could the word, word together a certain other word with various other words to form some kind of "series of words"?

But what if the word dare not be uttered for words are words after all, and if series of words are words packed with possibility, could the word be the end of all that is known of other words?

And if these word series are short lived, to what word would they be described? If for instance words are worded like a particular word, to word out some kind of strange meaning. But.. Unfortunately words in the end are to be spoken.

And speaking is rudiment-ally different from wording words in series on paper. For speaking requires the words to perhaps have some remedial sense of unknown meaning. But the words itself together sound ridiculous, so hence the words in succession require no such thing as speaking for that would defeat the purpose of speaking in the first place.

Now throw this in. If speaking is supposedly the ramblings of what is most likely a crazy person, could the words then not matter if they were worded right and still spoken? Like a word that's been worded a little wrong, but you still get the picture. Even though these words aren't like that. But insane in the membrane nonetheless.

Hmm.. Words..