We sat around in the woods next to the old church. Everyone was stretching except me.
“Hey Weird Foreign Doctor Chick… I’ve had this nagging hamstring problem for years, could it be an actual tear? Is it amenable to surgical repair?”
“Mr. Botendaddy person, I am not your Doctor, but you never know, it is possible you tore a tendon or have tendinitis or whatever. I would see an Ortho. I would like to examine you privately though. And it’s not because no other male would let me touch them ever, because I am creepy, foreign and I smell funny.”
“Real men don’t care about that. Real men just f@&k” said Devon. “I would f&$k you right now, but we’re in public.”
“Devon has a good point. Real men just take the p&$@y, you know what I’m saying?”
“Work sucks.” Said Guyasuta.
“Do tell.” Said the park ranger.
“So I had this boss, she hated my guts. Hated my work. I’m an actuary by trade. Never had a problem until she became my boss. Then all of a sudden my performance sucked, she tormented me for months, then tried to get me fired. I quit first.”
“That blows anus, chief.”
We finally started running.
“Your adult diaper is massive. How do you run in that thing?” Asked the WFDC for the eightieth time.
“So then, I get a new job across town and the same chick who tried to fire me shows up again and within two weeks, she tries to fire me again!” Continued the Chief.
“I went down to HR and I told them a cock and bull story about her intense hatred for Native Americans and how she harassed me. The were all SJW’s so they moved me off of her team. Now she’s afraid to talk to me. This just happened yesterday.” Finished Guyasuta.
“The odds are almost impossible that she shows up as your supervisor again, it’s like she stalked you. It’s like the guy in Texas, who got fired at one place, then the lady shows up at his next job and tries to fire him again! In the ghetto, that’s how melon farmers get shot!”
Added Devon helpfully.
“Well I don’t believe in killing.” I added self righteously. “And everyone quit talking about my enormous adult incontinence diaper.”
“What about whoever you killed in the war, you sanctimonious, jogging urinator. Ah the smell of it!” Added Guyasuta.
“Oh that’s mutual consent, it doesn’t count.” I said.
Our one and two mile times were atrocious. The hamstring pain was staggering. As was the left leg spinal damage numbness.
“You run like a lame Yeti. I am madly in love with you.” Said the WFDC.
“No one has figured out his orientation, you native Himalayan person. Besides I am passionately in love with him first.” Said Guyasuta, an obviously gay American Indian.
“Canned iced mocha?”
Peace be the Botendaddy