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Late comer

Fred has made spaghetti for dinner, and you load up, having worked up your appetite from a hard days labor. As you chow down, Albert walks in, getting a plate before looking at you.

"Think you should be carbo loading?" he asks, "If your going to eat that much, you should at least come work out with me. You've been slack since... you know, but you're getting soft." You stop for a moment, looking at your stomach, and feel it. Well, it is a little soft. You been working a desk job and lazing about, so it's not surprising that you may have put on a couple pounds from simple inactivity.

"Yeah, maybe," you say, "But I'm going to be working in the garden for a while, so that should help deal with that, and worse comes to worse I'll join you at the gym," You figure that should do the trick.

"You trying to enter something at the harvest festival?" he asks, "A bit late for that, don't you think?"

"Maybe," you say between mouthfuls, "But, you don't know till you try right?"

"Well, I hope your not betting anything on it," he says, "But good luck anyway."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," you say, a little dryly. But finish your dinner, then go out and set up a cd player with some calm music in the garden, to try and stimulate some growth. You huff a little at your full stomach, noting you may have overeaten a bit. A small belch escapes you as you walk back indoors and head up to bed.


Written by an anonymous author

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