I was joined by the Voat Fat People Hate Verified Shitlady.
I was trying to do research in my office. She just wanted to hang out. So I f@&ked her. There, I said it. I f&$ked her.
Then it was time to get lunch and go for a run.
We stopped down at an unknown location depicted below. I had the Blueberry Salad.
We hung out for a while at the Bolean Nationality Classroom. Some Boleans came through on the tour. Aliens occasionally land their spaceships on the Cathedral lawn, visit the Bolean Classroom then get an O dog and fries then pay homage to the Pitt Panther. Outer space aliens only attend three schools in the country: UNM Area 51 Roswell Extension Campus, U Mass Miskatonic at Arkham and Pitt. The out of Galaxy tuition is waved in exchange for unlimited power units and giant bricks of Platinum and rare earth metals.
One of the Bolean teenagers leaned in to me and spoke directly to my mind with his blue antennae: “U f@&ked her good, didn’t you Earth man? Good work, eh?”
We went up to the track. I had lost so much weight they didn’t recognize me from my ID. I was banned from the locker rooms as well.
I started OK, but I had a slight groin pull. We ran slowish. 9:50 after one mile, eight laps. I switched my ID from leg to right pocket after every lap. 21:28 two miles. 35:50 three miles. It was lame. Four miles 47:50 32 laps, 1/8 mile each.
Sometimes we came around the blind curve and there would be volleyball players, people kicking soccer balls, wrestlers professors all in a high-speed oval vignette. Solution: GET THE F&$K OFF THE TRACK! Horrible. I was still 3 miles behind for the month to make my yearly mileage.
“We can’t run here anymore you Obeast, Lardvaark, Hamplanet, Grease-goblin, Deathfat. Go change your enormous bowel-movement-filled adult diaper and F@&k me behind the bleachers you idiot.”
“Nutmeg Dark Chocolate Mocha?”
Peace be the Botendaddy