Stiff Gymnastics or: How I Learned to Love the Leotard.

Melza was a docile creature, too short for her weight, she had long red hair and was especially fond of gymnastics. Melza was particularly interested in gymnastical fashion, everywhere she went she wore a leotard, with her red locks done up in a bun she looked like a misshaped pillow with a tomato turret for a hat, a stiff smell followed her almost always. All this being said, Melza’s carissma was inexplicable for she was the direct decendant of two mildly regarded penates.

One day Melza woke up particularly refreshed, put on a new leotard and set out to find a partner to cohabit the old bus that she lived in. Her journey brought her to a vibrantly colored house with a group of people out front playing stoop ball with what looked to be the offspring of a volleyball and Art Garfunkel. Melza decided that she would go with the flow, she siddled up next to Paul, one of the Garfunkel ball players, and asked him what his favorite numbers were. Before she could even finish he yelled “Five-and-Ten”, which almost made Melza jiggle out of her purple sequenced leotard, she saw it as a decree from the heveans. Melza whispered something into Paul’s ear about bacon grease and a “special” leotard and his once mighty stoop ball vigilance quickly eroded into a lust for flesh and rasher. On their way back to Melza’s, they continued their courtship by reciting their favorite offensive heroic verse poetry.

When they got back to the bus, Melza quickly and gracefully disrobed, she was always one to doff a leotard and let the good times roll. In no time flat, she and Paul were at each other like Lance Bass on a cosmonaut. Spandex was stretched and landings were stuck, after such vigorous carnal tomfoolery the young lovers actions began to parch the bus to the point where the four-hundred-day clock simply exploded. Being the constant diplomat Paul offered to buy his new tubby tantric tumbler a new one and suggested that they turn on the teley and watch his favorite movie Mannequin. Melza had to break the TV out of dry-dock as she hadn’t watch television since the 1992 summer Olympics, she even needed a manual to get the thing turned on. As the two of them sat there watching Mannequin they both realized that they were meant to be together and as the credits rolled they stood in all their naked (and leotarded) glory and swore a solemn oath to each other. They vowed that nothing not, wolf pack, nor tainted celery stalk, nor the noise factor from their own fornication would ever interpose between their love for each other.

Moral of the story: The Eternal City wasn’t built in a day, neither was any city to my knowledge, take your time and do what you love. Before you know it you will find your soulmate and together you will grow to be as mighty as the mightiest cypress tree in all the metaphorical cypress swamp. If that doesn’t work there is always the one-piece, lyrca-poly composite garment of the gods, the leotard. Embrace it.


fAtHanD said...

Your fable has moved me to go out posthaste and purchase a leopard-print leotard of the Lycra-poly persuasion.

Preach on!

kentucky smooth said...