Minimo cum Fructu: Closing in on Workout 600

I had just come from the University gym after finishing my 590th-some workout in five years. I stood in front of the entire Writer’s Workshop on a Friday night. Yes, all pathetic losers are not out partying on Friday nights, they are at a Writer’s Workshop… with ME!

“I make up words. I am unashamed. I do it because I feel like it. How does that taste? For example Minimo cum Fructu. This is a Latin phrase, marked on a collegiate diplomae when someone does really shitty at school, graduating with between a 1.0 and 2.09 GPA. I derived it from cum Fructu, a Latin phrase meaning ‘one day shall bear fruit’ for people who do shitty in college in Europe.

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The Writers Workshop at Night

2. I hate shit-covered stupid liars with their fat little panties on fire big fibber-faces. On another site, some swole’ bro’s declared that only a 20 minute 5k or better was any good and they declared that high BMI, but muscular people could easily run a 24 minute 5k. I call withering horseshit on both accounts

So, I did a little research and data analytics. Fact- 2.3% percent of runners in non-scholastic/non-collegiate 5k’s run faster than 20:00 and 7.9% run faster than 24:00. Quod Erat Demonstratum QED. Look it up, big prevaricating, fake-news, bald-faced, liar, fibber, bullshitting, Pinocchio (pronounced Panache-ee-yo), Pecos Bill, Ghoti-tale (pronounced fish), tall-tale-tellers!

Conclusion: 24:00 is lightning fast for a public 5k. 92.1% of all runners CANNOT DO IT! OF RUNNERS! SO THERE! CASE CLOSED! END OF CONVERSATION! It is proven, axiomatic, incontrovertible scientific fact. If you disagree, go eat dirty doo-doo.”

I was shrieking, gesturing wildly, sweating.

“Botendaddy! Sit down! You foaming mouthed idiot! No one cares about your stupid statistics! And your diaper is reeking! Ah the smell of it!” Yelled the no-one cares lady from the back row of the Bolean Nationality Classroom.

The professor stood at the blackboard with her arms crossed. “We were discussing CARL SANDBURG, YOU STUPID SHIT-HEADS! MORONS! You are the worst writers AND CRITIC! That I’ve ever seen. Focus goddamnit! Writing, not running! And Botendaddy, you run like shit and you’ve always run like shit, young, old, fat, thin you are a shitty, shit-covered, manure-Biff-car, dukey-faced, doo-doo runner! So shut up and listen:

The fog comes…

on little cat feet…

it sits looking…

over ci-ty (flat tone) and har-bor (falling tone)…

on si-lent (falling tone) haun-ches (rising tone)…

and then moves on…

a poem, by Carl Sandburg

stop… close your eyes…

AND SEE THE GODDAMNED CAT, YOU FUCKING MORONS!!!”

The professor had clearly lost control.

“Metaphor, Allegory, Onomatopoeia, Mood, like what is all that stuff?” Asked the Swole Bro’

“No idea.” Said Devon.

“I got nothing.” Said the Stalker.

“Mocha?”

Peace be the Botendaddy

 

 

 

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About Botendaddy

Three times voted extreme sexiest man alive...by acclamation. I run because I must...I must!
This entry was posted in Critic's Corner, Exercise, People and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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