Hannibal Lecter has joined my gym. Seriously, I'm pretty sure it's him. I was just in the locker room minding my own business, and I looked over and the guy beside me was putting on a gas mask....a gas mask. Did he know something that I didn't know? What was in his gym bag? Was this Jihad Joe? I tried not to stare but I mean, come on. All I knew was that I was going to keep my eye on that guy and if he suddenly left the gym, I was following him. I also was watching to see if he tried to whisper something into someone's ear. I didn't trust that guy.
I considered the possibility that it was some kind of high end device for elite athletes but no...this was no triathlete, this was not a navy seal, no, this was someone that had just gotten up off the couch from playing Atari and grabbed his latest Amazon purchase and headed to the gym....or he was Hannibal Lecter, Jihad Joe, or Harry Halitosis.
I watched him like a hawk, waiting to see if he would drop some kind of smoking bomb and run for the door or motion somebody over to whisper something and leave me to watch the blood spatter. How would I get over that? I watched and waited and blame him for my lack of feeling the burn that day. He didn't do anything suspicious....other than workout in a gas mask. He just worked out in his gas mask and went home.
I'm sorry but ...no, just no. If you look around and you are the only person in the gym wearing a gas mask, wouldn't you second guess your decision? I mean, come on...come on. On the other hand, maybe it is a brilliant plan. After I get used to seeing Hannibal/Jihad/Halitosis, I'll quit watching so closely and then one day , when I least expect it, bazinga! I don't need this kind of drama. I'm just going to start doing isometrics and thigh master at the office .
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