The Bodybuilders

A Story by YorkerJones

A morbidly obese man finds an ad to hire a personal trainer. However, names are not what they seem.

The Bodybuilders

BANG! BANG! BANG! “GET YOUR A*S OUT OF THERE!!!!” John woke with a start. He examined his surroundings- a white room, tile floor, and a porcelain sink no more than three feet to his left. John looked below him- fat, fleshy lumps of meat resting on the tile floor, rising up to his- Damn. He found himself in the restroom. Again. John sighed as he pulled up his trousers, buckled his pants and drowsily dragged himself to the sink. After a quick rinse of the blobs he calls his hands, John slowly plodded to the door and squished his finger against the lock release. He sighed once more and pushed the door open. A furious set of eyes looked down upon him.. A man of authority looking upon him with such eyes was never a good sign. John glanced up. “JOHN WARDEN LEE!!!!” bellowed the imposing figure looking down on John. All at once- calm settled upon the towering figure.

“Hello John. Had a bit of an accident in the restroom, I presume?”

“N-n-n-no sir. I simply-”

“Ah John, Johnny, Johnnyboy, Johnster, what to do with you. First month on the job and already five of these ‘incidents.’”

“I understand sir, I swear it won’t-”

“JOHN DON’T INTERRUPT ME!!” Eyes around the office settled upon the spectacle.The man regained his composure. “John, what does a man do when he has an employee who spends thirty minutes in a bathroom, expecting to be paid?”

“Sir, please just-”

“You’re fired. Get out of here. Scram. Of course that would take a considerable amount of effort for you, wouldn’t it?” Laughter erupted from around the two men. John was dumbfounded- six months and he had finally gotten a well-paying, minimum effort employment opportunity and he had blown it before he had even received his first paycheck. And why? Because he was a lazy slob that had been completely dependent on his Taiwanese grandmother’s funds. A morbidly obese man with twenty-four years of age to his name and nothing to show for it. And he hated everything about himself. His looks, his three hundred-eighty pound body, his lifestyle- everything. Yet John never changed. The laughter around him didn’t cease. It never would. Not for John. He shook his head to remove the shock and in a daze, trudged to his cubicle. There were still unopened boxes strewn about his workplace. He gathered his belongings into a large storage container and slogged to the outside world of unemployment. He squinted in the midday sun. He found the nearest bus stop and paid the fare. As the bus drove on to his petty one room apartment, John was questioning himself. Why must I be this way? What did I do to myself to get to this point in my life?

“Now arriving COMMONPLACE APARTMENTS.” John walked to his room and set all of his workplace belongings inside. He sighed and dropped down on his floor. He rolled his flabs over to the side and searched round his apartment. He saw a telephone book. He dragged himself over to the area of the foul carpet where the large yellow book resided. In three extremely arduous, pitiful swipes, he clawed the book towards him. He flipped through his only source of entertainment and caught a glimpse of an ad. He “quickly” flipped to the page and read the words, in bright neon blue: TIRED OF BEING THE ONE THAT HUMANS MAKE FUN OF? TIRED OF BEING A LAZY, OBESE SLOB? WE ARE THE BODYBUILDERS. WE HAVE FREE, FAST, AND EASY SERVICES. CALL 1-876-616-2255 NOW!!!

Hmm. The ad seemed out of place, unusually… pasty. However, as moths are attracted to light, John was attracted by this enticing offer. And as a broke, obese man with nothing to lose, he pulled out his last few nickels, exited the building, and trudged to the nearest pay phone. Gasping for breath, he pulled himself up to the machine and slowly inserted the last of his belongings into the booth. He dialed in the buttons- 1. 8. 7. 6. 6. 1. 6. 2. 2. 5. 5. Immediately a thin, high-pitched voice was heard-

“On our way.” BEEP.

The call was over. In an instant, John had lost all of his precious nickels- simply on a prank? A stupid, childish joke?! John was furious. Then his anger turned to despair. Then to depression. He was going to be deported back to his Taiwanese grandmother’s home. He cried in anguish. He slammed his hamfisted hands to the ground, screaming, screeching, and finally- with intense pain in his chest- he whited out.

BANG! BANG! BANG! “Delivery for… John Lee?” John scrambled to get up from his dirty futon. Just a minute. Dirty futon? He was home? Bewildered, he attempted to recall earlier events. He couldn’t grasp any idea on how this had occurred. And most crucial- a delivery for him? In the twenty-four years of his life, he had never had a package addressed to him- not from family, his school, not anywhere. But now, during the most miserable day of his short, insignificant life, he receives a package? John, still stunned, stumbled towards the stained, rusty doorknob. He swung the door open and froze- there was no trace of the voice that had addressed John. John saw nothing. He took a glance below him. A small silver sphere, lying on the tattered remains of his doormat. No writing. No stamps. Nothing. John, scratching, or rather, reaching for his head with his arms, searched around his apartment. There was no sign of anyone who may have passed near his home. The sphere lay motionless in front of his door. With curiosity and tremendous effort, John stretched down to pick it up. As soon as the sphere left the ground, it shook violently in his pudgy arms. Shocked, he suddenly dropped the silver orb. It lay still for a few moments. It then glowed a deep crimson and cracks trickled down the surface. John waited, half in terror and half in anticipation. There was a gleaming glow of white light and the sphere burst. John, heart pounding, partly from moving more than he had in years, slowly approached the now scorched and smoking area the sphere had previously been. He was completely and absolutely terrified.

In the remains of the previously intact tatters of his doormat lay- nothing. No remains of anything- not the sphere, not the shoes that had next to the doormat, and most horrifying, not the door. Esmeralda’s going to raise the rent for the next eight years isn’t she? John realized. And after that horrible realization, he thought of the next one- he was gonna need to ask his Taiwanese grandmother to send him a new pair of shoes. And then the final most awful realization was that- he may have left his lucky ball of belly button lint at the office. Oh, and he remembered there was nothing in the sphere. Wait- after getting fired, leaving his lucky lint ball and having to walk from the bus stop to home, the world decides to drop this sphere and destroy every single valuable possession he owned and only leave him the tattered tatters of the doormat?!?! John, realizing his predicament, slowly turned a beet red, raising his blood pressure, therefore giving him chest pain. He patiently waited for his blood pressure to lower and proceeded to only think about himself turning a beet red but without chest pain. He inwardly screamed and beat his chest with strong, muscular arms and threw a cat at his ex-employer (Remember, John is imagining).

“What a guy”

“Nothing but a worthless loser”

“I second that!”

“I third that!”

“I fourth that!”

“I fifth that!”

John whipped his head to the side as fast as his thick neck would allow him. What he saw stopped his heart. Motionless, he collapsed. Lifeless his body would be for the next day, week, year, decade, century, millennium, eon.

“Did we just kill a guy?”

“Well, yes. He called us to help him and we killed him. But we can build him better than before. Let’s get to work!!”

“I second that!”

“I third that!”

“I fourth that!”

“I fifth that!”

“...”

“JOHN!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

To be continued...