It was around noon, close to lunchtime. We had just finished a job and were cruising down Main Street.
As we drove, we passed a man in a jogging suit huffing along the sidewalk.
Crew Leader Carl snorted. “I’ll bet that suit cost a hundred bucks. These office-dwellers with their fancy exercise regimens. They don’t have a clue what it means to stay healthy.”
He motioned with his arm. “Take us, for example. We work outside in the bright sunshine, breathing fresh air. We get our cardio raking and mowing and pulling weeds, and we work our muscles lifting bags of fertilizer and sacks of garbage. But these jerks sit in stuffy offices all day with their recycled air, and they think jogging for twenty minutes is going to make them healthy.”
I thought his speech was over, but unfortunately, it wasn’t.
“Look at me,” Carl said, thumping his chest. “I’m as fit as a fiddle. My chest and arms are strong. Feel these biceps. Feel them!”
He flexed his arm and shoved it in Francisco’s face. Francisco nodded while edging away.
“These muscles come from actual hard work — not from an expensive gym membership,” Carl said. “I don’t need a fancy machine or a ridiculous suit to keep in shape. All I need to stay healthy is a green lawn to mow and a patch of weeds to pull. I guarantee you, because of all the hard work we do, each of us is a lot healthier than that huffing-and-puffing bastard back there in the overpriced spacesuit.”
“Isn’t it lunchtime, Boss?” I asked.
Carl looked at his watch. “Hot damn — you’re right. Let’s eat!”
And with that, he lit a cigarette and pulled into the McDonald’s drive-through.