The Gym: Stanky Gym Rats

You know, I have no problem with people who sweat in a gym. We all do it. I often look like I have a frickin’ faucet at the top of my head that just pumps sweat in continuous rivulets off my face.

I have absolutely no beef with that.

My beef is with all y’all stanky ass motherfuckers who can’t even bring yourself to buy a cheap ass deodorant from the corner store.

I was in the gym earlier than usual last night, which may be the last time I do so. It was packed with what I believe to be local college kids. Not a problem. But when I was doing wrist curls on a bench, two guys walked by.

Holy God Almighty, one of them just happened to walk in front of the open window when the waft blew a scent of slowly rotting onions past my nose.

So I’ve made up my mind: I’ve got a mission.

My mission? I’m going to carry around mini-deodorants at the gym. If one of those motherfuckers even comes near me, I’m throwing one at his head and telling his ass to get his crap together. Let you know how it goes.

I do not have to smoke his funk. I have spoken.

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