He was very handsome, that was why Bart noticed him so intently. The nametag sewn onto the front of his jumpsuit said his name was Lincoln. He was burly and bristly, snarling at no one in particular when he came in. He looked like a generally disagreeable person, not like he was upset at this moment.
He was pudgy, thick all over, and Bart instantly got a rough and rugged vibe off Lincoln, who had that “it ain’t pervy as long as you’s on top” look. That was exactly the look Bart was hoping for. Maybe it was because Lincoln appeared to be of Italian or Greek descent, or something around that region, Bart thought, and those Mediterranean guys were usually down if they didn’t have a girl at the moment. This chunky mean-looking man almost certainly was single, so Bart had high hopes for him.
Lincoln was powerful — he fancied himself an amateur bodybuilder though he was far from perfectly muscled. He had a little beer belly and plenty of heft on his thickheavy thighs. He had a deep growly voice and a scruffy beard.
From The Fat Janitor