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The Douchebag At The Gym

The douchebag at the gym talks too loud and sweats too much. He has hairy arms and stares at the women.

This is the douchebag at my gym, posts the woman. He talks too loud and sweats too much. He has hairy arms and stares at the women.

Gross! posts a friend.

LOSER, another.

That belly! a third.

Every like pings! in the woman's brain.

The woman watches with a critical eye as the douchebag wipes down an exercise bench. He gestures at it with a grand awkward sweep, smiles and invites her to chat afterwards.

"I've gotta get home."

The douchebag cups his ear and leans forward. "Sorry? What?"

The douchebag asked me OUT! posts the woman.

Gross! posts a friend.

LOSER.

What nerve.

The douchebag sits down to a cold bowl of spaghetti. He twirls it to the size of a lamb's foot and crams it. The phone rings. It's his daughter from college. The call is a rarity. But before he can swallow to express his joy, she tells him his picture is all over Facebook.

He doesn't have Facebook, doesn't hear her alarm.

"That's cool, hon!" he bellows, and smiles at her picture.

Story by:

Jon Sindell

jsind@sbcglobal.net

www.facebook.com/JonSindellAuthor

29 November 2013