Memoirs of a reluctant Bulker

It arrives late at night, when the sane humans of this world are safely locked inside of their homes watching television shows representative of the life they only dream of living: perpetual inaction is their motto. The beast, -an outcast, a monster, a hideous sight- complete with gargantuan muscles, tattered and torn World Gym shirt, rugged cargo shorts and ten-year-old slip-on VAN topsiders, pushes its way through the entirely too tiny double door opening: much to the fright of the unlucky patrons still lingering through their safe and weak treadmill routines.

The monster from depths of the unmentionable forgets its purpose for a moment as it peers at an individual of the female variety who has chosen to dawn form fitting sweat pants with the moniker of "Juicy," on the hind quarter and a light-pink tight fitting tank top barely controlling a nicely shaped upper chest. The beast is tamed as a rush of euphoria and slight arousal temporarily overtakes him….

Realizing its true intent and subesquetnly regaining focus, the unimaginable being begins to move iron components rapidly and smoothly in rythym with the melodic noise that is resounding from non-visible points located throughout this modern day torture facility. Loudly proclaiming its dominance over a mighty load, which most humans would consider unmovable without mechanical assistance, he pushes and pulls the weight-laden bar-type contraptions repeatedly and with hydraulic-type ease.

The tremendous load slams on the stop and a nightmare-inducing roar is suddenly emmitted by the creature: one that might resemble what the combination of a thunder-clap and a Gorilla’s scream would sound like, were they to ever occur at the exact same time. A fearful few attempt a very timid peripheral sneak peek at the source of the commotion: "no sight has surely ever been seen by the human eye," one slender male onlooker, wearing a t-shirt with the phrase "Ain’t Skeered" on it, offers as he rapidly egresses the suddenly dangerous building.

Now alone as is usually the case, the beast, with animalistic instinct proceeds to load, unload, move, push, pull, and rotate the myriad of metal machines in a controlled yet chaotic manner. Sweat covers its entire being as the punishing ritual of brobdingnagian proportion comes to an end. The mammoth creature, whose skin can barely contain the overinflated and vascularized muscles, removes itself from this den of inequity on a laser like path towards a mechanical transportation unit. Looking for relief from the nuclear-like bodyheat recently generated, the beast downs a generous amount of an unidentifiable citrus based beverage. The cool-down begins as the lactic acid buildup slowly disiminates back to where’st it came. A sigh of relief formulates deep from within the vocal mechanisms of the body that has just propelled itself to a new apex of muscular breakdown.

The road back to its temporary living quarters is a satisfactory one for this temporarily misplaced beast / auditor.

To be continued……

Return back soon for another edition of the World Gym Monster. Tomorrow nights episode, "Beast and the Military Press!" 

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 19th, 2007 at 8:23 pm and is filed under Training, Other. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.