The other day I stopped by Wayo’s and saw Dennis there earlier than usual. Now, it’s not even Thursday, the night he plays there, so I’m wondering what he’s doing. But then I notice—his arms are looking toned. Even Shamo’s looking buff, like he’s been sneaking in push-ups when nobody’s watching.
So I say, “Dang bro, you been working out?”
They both grin and say, “Oh yeah.”
So I ask, “Where you been going? What gym you hitting?”
Dennis laughs and goes, “Man, we’re not paying to go to a gym. Just wait—you’ll see.”
Sure enough, a little while later, the beer delivery truck pulls up. Before I can blink, Dennis and Shamu jump off their stools and go tearing down the dock. Next thing I know, I’m watching the San Pedro CrossFit Games—deadlifting beer crates, squatting with Belikin cases, carrying kegs like Olympic weightlifters.
By the time they haul the last barrel up, they’re sweaty, flexing, and looking mighty proud of themselves. I just shake my head and say, “So THAT’S your workout?”
And right then, Wayo hands each of them an ice-cold beer. Shamo grins and says, “Yep free drinks included. We get paid to work out. Win-win!”
The events and characters depicted in Wolfe’s Woofer by Melody S. Wolfe are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The column is intended for satire and entertainment purposes only.
