Post by capt80s on Nov 3, 2018 1:54:24 GMT -5
The Allstate Hot Chocolate 15K/5K still has most of the downtown area around Millenium and Burnham Parks in a clusterfuck. With the roads closed, hundreds of motherfuckers mill around on an adrenaline and sugar high. They’re in no hurry to get back to their overpriced fucking parking and on with their Sunday since the race ended before noon.
I hate my fucking self right now. I’ve spent three fucking months getting in shape for this fucking race, and six hours ago I felt lke a fucking champion. The best shape of my life, in hotpants and a sexy fucking wifebeater, I had grinned as I’d pasted my number—one oh three, my ideal weight, which I was only four fucking pounds away from achieving—over the breasts which had only really begun to tighten up since the beginning of October.
I got caught up I the fucking excitement, and gladly accepted my prize for finishing – a custom-made ceramic bowl with marshmallows, chocolate pudding, pretzels, rice krispy treats, M&Ms, and of course, an oversized, steaming mug of hot fucking chocolate.
In three fucking months, I’ve abstained from ice cream while summer wore on past it’s welcome, ignored pumpkin spiced fucking everything when it infected every retail outlet and café, and didn’t lay a fucking finger on any Halloween candy. But it wasn’t until I’d fucking slurped the dregs of my mug a few minutes ago that I realized I’d eaten every snack.
What have I fucking done?
Well, lunch is off the fucking table. I can’t let all this work go to waste. I’ve got to find a way to work off all these fucking calories I’ve sucked down. Luckily, Bottom Line Yoga is only a block from the festival. Time for an emergency fucking hot yoga class. I’m not stopping until I’m dead.
I blow through the front door and don’t even greet the fucking girl at the counter. She looks like she’s never even seen the inside of the fucking yoga studio, all hundred and twenty five pounds of her lard. I rush inside and unspool the fucking mat I’d grabbed from the trunk, and do a few warm up stretches while I wait for the top of the hour session to begin.
It’s not long before the fucking smell of hot skin and clean sweat starts to emanate from my fellow yoga-ers. We haven’t even begun, and already the sauna-heat seeps into the room. This is going to be a great fucking session.
“AHOOOOOOOY FIRST MATES!!!”
The fuck…?
I can’t believe my eyes… Captain fucking 80s just rushed into the room like someone set his neon tights on fire, already covered in a golden sheen of perspiration even though he had been out in the air conditioned fucking lobby until two seconds ago.
“THE CAPTAIN PULSATES WITH EXCITEMENT TODAY, THAT SO MANY OF HIS FIRST MATES (HASHTAG#) HAVE MADE THE LIFE-ALTERING DECISION TO JOIN HIS HOT YOGA CLASS THIS EVE!”
Ok, what’s in the fucking bag he dragged in over his shoulder?
“THE CAPTAIN IS SO GLAD YOU ASKED!!”
Wait…
Wait…
He hefts the bag off his shoulder and lets it drop to the fucking floor before reaching into it.
“THE CAPTAIN HAS A MIGHTY BATTLE IN COLUMBUS, OHIO, AT CHILL NUMBER FIVE, AT THE NATIONWIDE ARENA!! THE CAPTAIN’S BEST FIRST MATE, ROXY COTTON, IS ENGAGED TO A MIGHTY WARRIOR THAT STRIKES FEAR INTO THE HEART OF THE KEYMASTER OF GOZER!! YEAAAH!! HIS NAME IS LOVER BOY VINNIE LANE, AND THE CAPTAIN WILL MEET THIS INCREDIBLE FOE IN THE RING OF BATTLE TOMORROW, NOVEMBER FIFTH!”
I have no fucking idea what’s going on.
I have no fucking idea what’s going on.
“BUT WORRY NOT, FIRST MATES!! HALLOWEEN IS OVER, BUT THE CAPTAIN HAS PREPARED TO CONQUER HIS FEAR!!”
He just pulled out a fucking knife. We’re all going to fucking die.
He just pulled out a fucking knife. We’re all going to fucking die.
“FIRST POSE, FIRST MATES!! MICHAEL MYERS!”
He’s raising the fucking knife up to shoulder height like he’s about to stab his sister in the back.
He’s raising the fucking knife up to shoulder height like he’s about to stab his sister in the back.
“COME FIRST MATES, FLEX THOSE BICEPS!!”
I can’t believe I’m going along with this, but fuck it.
I can’t believe I’m going along with this, but fuck it.
“YEAH!! NOW SWITCH HANDS! YOU’VE GOT IT!”
I have to admit, tensing my hands, arms, and shoulders in that position feels good. And now he’s going for the fucking bag again.
I have to admit, tensing my hands, arms, and shoulders in that position feels good. And now he’s going for the fucking bag again.
“NEXT POSE!”
What’s with the fucking locket? “CHARLES LEE RAY!”
The Captain looks like he’s trying to fucking crush the locket in front of him by pushing his hands together in front of his chest.
The Captain looks like he’s trying to fucking crush the locket in front of him by pushing his hands together in front of his chest.
“ADE DUE DAMBALLA! GIVE ME THE POWER I BEG OF YOU!! CHANT WITH ME FIRST MATES!”
Why does that sound so fucking familiar?
Why does that sound so fucking familiar?
“ADE DUE DAMBALLA! GIVE ME THE POWER I BEG OF YOU!! YEAAAH!”
What the fuck ever… my back is getting a workout as I strain to push my palms through each other.
What the fuck ever… my back is getting a workout as I strain to push my palms through each other.
“NEXT POSE!!”
He’s got the fucking knife-glove. Fuck me.
He’s got the fucking knife-glove. Fuck me.
“FRED KREUGER!”
I wouldn’t fucking believe it if I weren’t seeing it right in fucking front of me. He’s stretching his arms out to inhuman length, and all of us are struggling to match. It’s got to be the heat, I’m fucking hallucinating. There’s no way he’s touching the walls on either side of the studio.
I wouldn’t fucking believe it if I weren’t seeing it right in fucking front of me. He’s stretching his arms out to inhuman length, and all of us are struggling to match. It’s got to be the heat, I’m fucking hallucinating. There’s no way he’s touching the walls on either side of the studio.
Some smart ass in the back decides to get cute:
“Die, bitch!”
The Captain stops abruptly, and marches to the fucking soccer mom trying to get in shape for her son in law. He puts a mighty finger in her face.
“HIT THE SHOWERS!!”
Deflated, the wannabe fucking MILF trudges out of the room. Capitan walks back to his bag and pulls out the next prop.
Deflated, the wannabe fucking MILF trudges out of the room. Capitan walks back to his bag and pulls out the next prop.
“NEXT POSE, FIRST MATES!!”
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a fucking chainsaw. A. Fucking. Chainsaw.
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a fucking chainsaw. A. Fucking. Chainsaw.
“ASHLEY WILLIAMS!!”
This actually looks like a high crescent lunge, but he lifts the chainsaw in one hand and takes a step forward, curving his entire fucking body so that his ridiculous core muscles ripple taut. I think I’m actually fucking turned on by a psychopath wielding a chainsaw.
This actually looks like a high crescent lunge, but he lifts the chainsaw in one hand and takes a step forward, curving his entire fucking body so that his ridiculous core muscles ripple taut. I think I’m actually fucking turned on by a psychopath wielding a chainsaw.
“OTHER HAND, FIRST MATES!!”
I’m fucking pouring sweat. There’s no way there’s any chocolate left in my body.
I’m fucking pouring sweat. There’s no way there’s any chocolate left in my body.
“FINAL POSE! YEAAH!!”
As the Captain pulls out a Lemarchand’s Box, Lament Configuration, the room suddenly feels very cold. My fucking veins fill with icewater, and the room seems to ripple. Realization sets in as he fiddles with the various mechanics of the box, and panic sets in.
As the Captain pulls out a Lemarchand’s Box, Lament Configuration, the room suddenly feels very cold. My fucking veins fill with icewater, and the room seems to ripple. Realization sets in as he fiddles with the various mechanics of the box, and panic sets in.
As we run screaming from the studio, the Captain bellows after us.
“WAIT, FIRST MATES!! THE CAPTAIN NEEDS YOUR SWEATY MAGIC TO DEFEAT LOVER BOY VINNIE LANE!! COME BACK! THE CAPTAIN HAS SUCH SIGHTS TO SHOW YOU!! YOU COULD ALL BE EXPLORERS IN THE FURTHEST REGIONS OF EXPERIENCE!! YEAAAH!!”
Fuck. That.
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