|Going to the gym would not|
solve his problems. But it was
a place to start
The old man had a bald head and a round tummy. As his sides were two lumps of fat that the women call love handles although there is no woman who loves to handle them. His glasses were smeary. His shoe laces were frequently untied. Going to the gym would not solve his problems. But it was a place to start.
"Today will be a lucky day," the old man told the boy. "It is a lucky day to go to the gym."
"Yes," agreed the boy. "You will go to the gym today. You will be ripped."
"I do not wish to be ripped," the old man said. "I am too old for that. I wish only not to look so much like the Pillsbury Doughboy." The boy said nothing. Compared to the old man, the Pillsbury Doughboy was buff.
The grass under their feet was green with brown splotches. The sky was overhead. That is a good place for the sky, the old man thought. There were exactly three clouds. No, make that two. No three. There were two or three clouds.
"Today," said the old man, "I will go to the gym."
"I believe you," the boy said. The boy did not believe him for a second.