Suicide in Installments

Yep! It is what it is! Sloooow suicide. I've been meeting with Drill Sergeant Annie and she's been great. No pain, no gain. I should have a lot of gain.

She had me doing some new crunches (hate crunches!) and as I lay there on the floor like a limp noodle, ready to spit out blood, she says, "Okay, give me two more sets!"

As I was panting, mustering up all the voice I could, I squeak, "Today?"

She chuckles and says in her authoritative voice, "Yes. Today!" She chuckles again and says, "I've never had anyone ask me that before."

Later on she starts throwing this rubber kick ball up in the air and catching it while demonstrating a squat. She says, "Okay, your turn." She hands me the ball and as my elasticised arms hit the floor I said, "You didn't tell me it was heavy." This is where I expected my buff little friend to say, "It's not!" but she didn't. She was so kind.

Some people do this for fun. Not me. I'm doing it out of necessity. I'm trying to commit suicide and this was the absolute hardest way I could think of doing it. Nice and gradual, not too obvious. At least I will weigh less when I have to be carried in my coffin. I would like to allocate Annie as my poll bearer. I'll only need one. She could just tuck my coffin under her buff little arm and run me down the road and barely break a sweat.

Thanks, Dr. Kevorkian - I mean Annie. See you Wednesday.