Page 225 of Devil’s Disciples

A YouTube video was loaded on the screen of my phone. I pressed play. After a five second video about the new BMW SUV, a woman appeared. Her hair was in a bun, and she was wearing glasses, but it was undoubtedly Abby. A much younger Abby, but it was her.

Finding a man in San Diego that’s suitable for dating isn’t an easy task. Personally, I prefer a big man. A tall man. A man who makes me feel small and protected. So, I ventured to the gym in search of my perfect mate. What did I find?

Well, I’m still single.

I did come up with an idea, though.

The personality gym.

I think it’s a great concept. Instead of going in, lifting weights, and leaving with shredded abs, bulging biceps, and a missing neck, you would go in, get an awesome cup of Italian roast coffee and a bran muffin.

While munching the muffin and sipping the coffee, you’d talk to a personality counselor. After six weeks, you’d graduate with manners, the ability to communicate with others, and a reasonable sense of self-worth.

Why is it that most men who spend their idle time in the gym are referred to as meatheads?

Because their heads are nothing more than a slab of meat, that’s why.

The screen flashed to a sidewalk scene, where Abby was interviewing a man in front of a gym. He was wearing remnants of a tee shirt, spandex shorts, and carried a half-full protein shaker in one hand.

Who was president when you were a senior in high school? Abby asked.

The man took a drink from his plastic bottle and then gave her a confused look. Of what?

The United States, she replied.

After giving the question some serious thought, the man responded. Donald Trump.

How many ounces are in two pounds of coffee? she asked.

I don’t drink coffee how would I know? Next question.

Who shot John F. Kennedy? she asked.

I’m twenty-two. He took another gulp from his shaker, making sure to flex his bicep as he took the drink. That was before my time.

Is it the Pacific or Atlantic Ocean that touches the coastline here?

I’m not big into American history, he responded. Ask me something about proteins or carb loading--

Does a man’s sperm have protein in it? she asked.

He grinned. It’s got tons of it.

How much? she asked. Per serving?

He shrugged. Couple of grams.

Gone with the Wind or Gone in Sixty Seconds? she asked.

He drank the remained of his protein shake. Gone in Sixty Seconds.

She motioned toward his protein shaker. How much of that stuff do you drink in a day?

He raised the plastic cup. Three of these.

How long does it take you to finish one set of curls? she asked.

Twenty-two minutes, he responded proudly.