"So how much do you bench bro? Gotta be careful with these weights".
Glenn gave no answer, he just wanted the body-building equipment in his garage.
Just put it down there - the bench - sparkling under Glenn's light-bulb.
The two plates rumbling on the concrete.
The deal was done now.
The equipment was his.
Go away now delivery men.
Glenn observed the engine and falling curtain of the shutting garage door.
Alone with the weights at last.
Off with the constricting shirt!
"Yeah, inhale your own masculinity", said Glenn to himself.
Then he lifted and rolled the two 15 Kilogram weights.
First it felt like his fingertips were breaking as he tried to lift them.
Then he got them at an angle, and heaved them onto either sides of the pole.
The lowest setting.
It took an hour of struggle.
But thus, half-stripped, sweaty and testosterone-fueled, Glenn took his position under the pole.
"Today I'm going to lift", he told himself.
And then - crack.
They say the neighbors complained weeks later about the smell wafting from the garage.
And Glenn was found rotting under the bar, his extremities and face peeled like a chewed peach; where rats, maggots and cockroaches had feasted.
His silent scream one of long ... tortured ... eventual release.
Anyway, some say he was a nice young man, but a bit of a loner.
And they say if you looked like a bit of a sportsman, he'd always ask:
"How much do you bench bro"?
edit on 20-2-2021 by halfoldman because: (no reason given)
edit on Sat Feb 20 2021 by
DontTreadOnMe because: (no reason given)