by O. J. Anderson
Table of Contents|
appeared in issue 221.
Berney Razor — a.k.a. “Razor Burn” — of the Special Crimes Unit of the Garden City Police Department, believes in a healthy diet: he makes his own fruit smoothies and bakes his own banana-flavored bran muffins. He also exercises healthily. However, he has not read the chapter titled “Moderation.” He has developed a physique of geographical proportions; he looms amply equipped to punch out the punks on the seamy side of Garden City. What can stand in the way of this law-enforcement juggernaut? We shall see...
Biceps are his favorite muscles to work when he needs to get some hard core thinking done. Or, when he needs to burn off some pent-up anger in a hurry and there are no nearby asses to kick.
You need to spend some time exploring your emotions.
Preacher curls. They burn the most. He loads the curl bar with two hundred pounds and has a good warm-up tossing that around.
Some people assume they know everything about a guy just because he’s built like a Greek warrior god on cattle hormones. But assumptions starts with an ass! He’s misunderstood, that’s all. Most Heroes are. How could anyone begin to probe the complex depths of his character after only a few days? He’s an enigma wrapped in a dense layer of brawny sinew.
Contact your feelings.
Ah! Veins bulge. Blood courses. Muscle fibers inflate. But enough foreplay already. It’s time to crank. He loads more forty-fives, losing track of the poundage. Ooo... ahhh... squeeze at the top. Torque it out, you sissy. Feel the burn.
His biceps look like two throbbing turtles sitting on logs. Need more weight! Razor works until it hurts, grunting and sweating and heaving and yelling, eyes popping from their sockets, teeth grinding, knees quivering. He works through the pain. Get more weight! Then he works beyond the pain, going to that special place, until he’s so pumped he feels he could pluck the moon from the sky and spin it on his finger!
* * *
Kate comes out of the bathroom wearing a white chenille robe and wrapping a towel around her wet hair. A glass of red wine sits on the night stand next to the bed. She takes a sip and pulls back the covers. It’s late, but Kate won’t be going to sleep straightaway. She takes her book and opens it, setting the bookmark off to the side. Another sip of wine. It all makes more sense with a bit of red wine. First off, review the previous night’s end of chapter notes. The six BE’s:
- BE demanding.
- BE high maintenance.
- BE flirtatious with other men.
- BE emotionally vexing.
- BE unpredictable.
- And always, always BE charming.
Good then. She turns the page to Chapter 5 of Jackie Wallace’s How to Get — and Keep — a Man.
* * *
More weight. Lift everything. Lift the world!
Why oh why did he go down to the lab with her? He has never been there before. Well lighted. Germ free. All that glass and stainless steel and electro-spectro-meter-graphology things with precision dials and meters and sensors everywhere and her in protective eyewear and latex gloves. Oh, the lingo! The calculations. The precautions. And him with his hands in his pockets.
A tropical scenario. Uwua Uwua. The ultimate vacation spot. Something (a frolic!) on horseback. Cirque du Soleil meets HealthCon in the rain forest. Protein shakes, wild gymnastic feats of strength and balance, triple-canopy derring-do, coconut cracking and banana fetching, long naps on fronds...
He would build them a shack on the beach and scour the jungle for aloe plants to make her shampoo or lotion or moisturizer or whatever. Hunt down a wild boar, kill it with his bare hands, string it up and skin it with his bare hands. Make utensils from the bones.
Make her sweet and sour pork tenders, impress her with is terrain association land navigation techniques to the fresh water bathing hole, climb trees for fresh fruit, scale cliffs for eggs, fell and hollow a tree and make a canoe for long moonlight rides along the shore.
Make her jungle jewelry, knit her gowns from bamboo fibers, install coconut phones and cultivate a Gilligan’s Island atmosphere, write haiku in the sand, seashell bikini, erotic smoke signals, long beach runs, fermented citrus grogs on Saturday nights, fermented citrus grogs every night...
Copyright © 2006 by O. J. Anderson