EXERCISE

My wife invested $40.00 in a piece of exercise equipment. It looks like the mutation of a stair stepper and a cross country ski machine. It even has a digital counter so that you'll know, at a glance, the exact number of steps it takes to cause a coronary. It's so quiet, my wife informs me, that we can use it in front of the television without disturbing anyone. So, there it sits, a constant reminder, an albatross around my neck, staring at me as I munch my chips and watch M*A*S*H* reruns. A piece of furniture with an attitude. It mocks my physique with its piercing eyes and makes rude gestures when I step outside for a cigarette. Don't tell me its not alive. Nobody else can hear it, but I can. It wants me and will not give up until I'm dead. I know how it ended up at that thrift store. It killed the last owner or at least drove him to suicide with it's constant harping. The surviving members of the family gave it away and I can only feel contempt for them. They obviously have little regard for human life. It should have been destroyed and buried. It will kill again. It's stronger tha you or I and it murders for pleasure.

SAW