You may be familiar with the expression ‘gym rat’. Gym rats are people who spend an inordinate amount of time working out, whether it be aerobic exercise, weight lifting, cardio or Olympic pole dancing. And gym rats tend to perform these activities as close to a mirror as possible so they can stare intently at their rippling, gleaming muscles or their flushed, strained faces.
Gym rats make me want to vomit. But they have bigger muscles than me, so I don’t mess with them.
There are other animals at the gym, though. Some lesser-known fitness beasts. Take, for instance, the dreaded lone gym wolf. This hairy beast moves stealthily around the facility without ever taking its eyes off its prey. Sensing danger, the prey decides to retreat to the safety of her lair. This, however does not deter the wolf. In fact, the mangy mutt is only daunted when the prey rolls down the window of her car and screams “Piss off! I’m married!” – forcing the wolf to make a highly illegal, extremely dangerous U-turn on a major boulevard so as to flee into the night, never to be seen again.
Lone gym wolves give me the creeps. But they tend to be certifiable, so I don’t mess with them.
Then, of course, there’s the gym flamingo. This leggy, brightly-plumed, fully made-up creature doesn’t actually exercise. Rather, she flutters from apparatus to apparatus in her pink track suit and pink runners and her long pink nails and her pink lipstick, not to mention the pink frosted tips of her platinum hair. She leans against the machine, oblivious to anyone else’s desire to use said machine. She smiles coquettishly at the nearest rat and strikes up a conversation. And then doesn’t move. For. Hours.
Gym flamingos annoy me. But I’m allergic to large quantities of Hello Kitty perfume, so I don’t mess with them.
I couldn’t possibly forget about the gregarious gym hyenas. These young, spotted critters scavenge less than one might assume, perhaps because they are too busy being overwhelmingly vocal without ever actually communicating anything. They simply produce a never-ending, ear-splitting series of whoops and grunts, giggles and groans, chattering laughs and whines. Incessantly.
Gym hyenas give me a migraine. But they outnumber me, so I don’t mess with them.
And that brings us to the gym geese. This vigorous trio of waterfowl loses all credible claim to machismo when you observe how they move through the space in a perfect V formation. The gaggle even maintains this pattern when using the weight training equipment; one of the geese on the bench, the other two flanking on either side at an angle. The weightlifting goose arises and, in perfect synchronicity, he takes the angled flanking position of the next goose sliding onto the bench.
And so it was no accident. I watched. I waited. I planned. And at every opportunity, I walked through them, sending them squawking in every direction, scattering them. They would eventually regroup, only to find my behind parked on the machine they were heading for. They flew around aimlessly for a while, made half-hearted attempts to land elsewhere and mostly honked ineffectually.
Geese are silly things. So yeah, I messed with them.
Welcome to Day 2 of the Second Third Annual 30 Minus 2 Days of Writing. Today’s prompt was It Was No Accident and it was brought to you by my dear friend June, who had better post something at some point today if she knows what’s good for her. Please click on the links below to visit the other extremely talented people participating in this challenge. If you know what’s good for you.