We’re training. YES! We love training. Every Saturday morning we train so fucking hard. We’re unclogging our arteries by clogging the esplanade. Yeah we hear the polite, persistent ding of your bicycle bell, but we can’t be bothered, we have fucking water bottles strapped to our hands! Besides we move quick; I mean we’re all running! Ok, maybe not running, or even jogging, but it’s definitely not walking. Our heavy plodding, and sweating will someday take us 26 miles! We’re training!
Oh, wow. That was awesome training. I think I’ll quicken my pace so that I can get to the cafÉ before everyone else. Oops, I dripped on the floor. “Excuse me, sir, I just dripped on your floor, you might want to mop that up, there are 30 more wet florescent people coming right behind me”
“I’ll have two chocolate croissants and a large mocha, it’s ok I’m training for a marathon. Oh, don’t mind those blood spots on my shirt, those are just my nipples. WE’RE TRAINING!!!”
Oh my god, its hawt in here. I gotta lose a layer. “Hey guys in case you want don’t want to walk around in your sweat blanket you can hang it up here, with these nice, dry jackets. I’m sure these non-training people in here won’t mind a little sweat on their garments.”
Uh-oh my armpits smell like hot garbage. I’d better go blend in with my loud, salty brethren. I feel sorry for all these people in here wasting their lives typing on their computers with annoyed looks on their faces.