Horror at the Gym
and
it was me! so, why is it that we figure things
out just a little to late most of the time? I
get to the gym, and man does something stink
(i’m sure you know where this is going, and
you’re right). every time i point my nose to the
right or left, man it really smells funky. well,
it’s because that is where my shoulders are,
which happen to have my shirt draped over them.
funny place to find it, i know, but hey, whatcha
gonna do? so i was thinking ‘wow, i just took a
shower not 24 hours ago, and up until now i had
not done anything strenuous; what’s up?’ well, a
little covert investigation (trying to sniff
around whilst maintaining your cool, so no one
suspects you can be difficult work) led me to
the real culprit: the shirt, not me. ok, the
shirt stinks like mad; what happened?
let me begin by saying i have no idea still. i pulled
it straight out of the drawer – not the hamper – so
all should have been golden. and here’s what really
bugs me: how did i not notice this until i was at the
gym surrounded by people who i could then offend? i
mean, when i pulled it out of the drawer, i noticed
the stitching had come undone under one arm, so i
began surgery to remove the sleeves completely so
that it would look less tacky (girlfriend gets upset
when i look ‘tacky’). so then i spend 10 minutes
hunched over the damn stink machine (no, not hayden
suckinson, but my shirt), closely examining and
modifying it to spec. then it goes on to test. then i
trek downstairs to eat a bowl of cereal. then i get
in the car and drive there. then i walk in. all this
time, nothing, not a whiff of suckiness. suddenly, as
i prepare for my very first exercise, i stink.
now, i’ve expelled some odors at the gym before, but
usually because of what transpires (and then
perspires) there. i have no idea still how the hell i
managed to bring stink to the gym for all to enjoy.
and frankly, i’m scared to put the damn shirt in the
hamper, for fear of spreading the freakish odor. does
it wash out? i have no idea. it’s a real shame, too,
because i like the shirt; it feels nice, and is
probably one of few things that i took away from the
military that i can give a thumbs-up to. i tried. i
tried to save it, what with the stitch surgery and
all, and still it smelled like rotten death. maybe
that was it’s way of letting me know the charade is
over; it’s 8-year useful life span is over. maybe
it’s a sign.
or not; i’m stubborn. i’m off to wash it now. alone.
solitary wash cycle.
Peace.