Giant Squid Obliterates Earthlings. And Cindy Goes to Washington

The BackBlast:

So I pull up at my customary time only to see Cindy’s wife’s Mercedes (his other upper-middle class ride is still impounded) sitting there. He jumps out and grabs me. Says “Come here little buddy (he always call me little buddy), I gotta show you something” He pulls out this dead animal headpiece with horns on it and some ELON facepaint left over from the 1997 conference championship game (hasn’t been needed since). Swampfox appears from around the car grinning as if he already heard this, or maybe it was his idea. Sweeny says “After the workout I’m driving to DC today!” Swamp starts laughing uncontrollably. So I says “Gonna protest the election results huh?”  “Election results???!!” “Nevermind” Well, I guess he made it. Also – Those are not real tattoos, Swamp put them on with a sharpie after the workout. Pretty dope though.

 

Soon after the others arrived and we had to table our conversation. Grease Jesus conspicuously parks in the bat-flipper section. This will be important later (not really). I guess he just took Boone’s spot.

The new normal crew shows up: Ginger Jr, Sushi, and Terry or maybe it’s Terrie, or Terri. We’ll go with Terri. Lee comes gliding in as Topham gets out of his new-ish Ford F-150 as if to say “I don’t live in Cotswold” or “I like helping people move” or something. Mighty Wind and his taller sidekick arrive for effect. And then, really big news here, Mr. Bo puts new batteries in his tiny little red safety lights. He informs me that they are Chinese batteries. As if I’d be impressed by that (I was).

So here’s the thing. I knew full well that only the new normals, Wind, and Mr. Bo would do any burpees. So we started with that. Truth be told Lee and Ballz joined in. But that’s all. It became a theme throughout. I’d call burpees. Some people wouldn’t do any burpees. Topham has this deal worked out in his head where he does 2 merkins for every one burpee called; he calls it the French Exchange Rate. Some people do other things like a couple LBCs. But just as sure as rain when one starts running everyone stops doing anything and starts running. It’s the Metro way.

Having Qd this workout for the last 9 years I didn’t even try to find anything new. Spoiler alert we went to the CPCC deck, Lizzy Lurker, The Castle, tennis courts, and the playground. We stopped after each revolution for some Mary until those that don’t do any of that yelled to leave; happens quick.

So back to Mr. Ceesus goes to Washington. It is my understanding that he went up there to scout our new SIB territory. Swamp told me he owed some back taxes he had to settle lest they garnish. And if I know Cindy, which I don’t, he probably got all caught up in the excitement and ended up on the chamber floor completely by accident. Sort of like his 6-year stint at Elon. Same thing that happened to Forest Gump. Same exact thing. Swampeeeeee!!!!

The moral of the story is that RAnGEr still doesn’t disappoint. Although with COVID we haven’t had any poor, unsuspecting out-of-towners who just show up at the closest workout to uptown on a Wednesday and have no business being at Ranger. That’s fun, I miss that.

We didn’t drop anyone and I didn’t get dropped. We had 2 safety vests in the crowd and the sweat washed some of the Grease out of Jesus’s hair. All-in-all it was a great morning. As Mr. Bo the accountant said, exactly 4 miles in exactly 45 minutes. Wait, that was Mighty Wind. Bo was bitching that it was only 4:15 in only 44:15. I reminded him about the burpees at the beginning. Trust me that sh%$ was tight.

Unlike PWW this week we didn’t run into Phoenix or Big Hair or anyone else for that matter (by the way, that just sufficed for my PWW backblast). But Ray Brower’s body was found. But neither our gang nor their gang got the credit. In the end we decided that an anonymous phone-call was the best thing to do. We headed home. And although many thoughts raced through our minds we barely spoke. We walked through the night and made it back to Castle Rock a little past five o’clock on Sunday morning, the day before Labor Day. We’d only been gone two days. But somehow the town seemed different. Smaller

 

The End

 

Until next time.

Your friend,

Slaughter