Tim woke from his slumber 8 minutes late for the show. What show you ask? The only show. Tool Time. The greatest show on television. The only show on television, as far as we are concerned!
Tim fell from the bed onto the carpet. He rolled slowly to the left 8 inches and then he moved back into position so that his arms were straight out and his knees were bent. He pulled his thighs out to the left and made a large star. He hated doing his exercises but it kept the feelings happy and joyful inside him and he didn't want his family to worry anymore! He then slipped on his underpants. He put on his pants next, left leg then right leg. Then put on his socks. He stood in front of himself in the mirror and made a GURRRUUPPPPPPPGH noise checking out his manly physique.
"JILL! WHY DID YOU LET ME EAT THAT BACON MILKSHAKE LAST NIGHT!" He called at his lovely and beguiling wife. "OH TIM, " she called back, "THAT WASN'T MY FAULT! RANDY BET YOU TO DRINK THE WHOLE THING WHEN MARK SAID ONLY NORMS DRINK MILKSHAKES!"
Tim thought for a second, deeply. His son, Mark, was becoming a member of the gothic culture and it was hard for him to understand, let alone appreciate.
"I've got to bond more with Mark, " he thought.
Tim drove to the show and got out of his car, he slipped his hand inside the right pocket of his pants. He didn't have a pocket lining on that side, he had removed it. It was empty and he put his keys in his pocket allowing them to slide their cold metal tips down his leg until they fell out the bottom of his pantleg. He kicked his own keys into the gutter on purpose. He wasn't coming back.
Tim opened his trunk and pulled out some plywood, a hammer, and a large knife. He stabbed himself in the face with the knife and began to bleed out. Just kidding! He was having a flashback of seeing someone do that in a movie and the idea was intoxicating to him, but he played it safe and gave the parking lot of the studio a weird look, questioning if anyone had seen his daydream. A concept that is intensely hard to understand.
He entered the building and began construction with the plywood and hardware. He laid himself down on the floor and begin to slowly drag his legs over and over each other, spinning his body, rolling over, until he reached the door of the set. He yelled for Al to come see him. Al Borland came out and slipped on Tim like a banana peel!
He hit the ground with a thunderous noise, his hips jolting and his fat rolls slapping and buckling against each other in slow motion.
"I DON'T LIKE IT WHEN YOU PLAY BANANAS, TIM!" Al groaned. His hair was really well done today and Tim remarked on how long it was. "You need a haircut, Al" Tim stated. "Shut your dumb mouth, I don't think so, Tim" All retorted. His hair was now long and blonde and down near his waist. He had braided half of it and the other half was dreadlocked, but parted in the center.
Al and Tim laid down on the floor near each other and spread out their arms and legs until they resembled starfish and they began to slowly move their limbs up and down and side to side. Tim eventually maneuvered himself over to Al and was laying on him, his stomach against Al's stomach, performing his starfish exercises. Al laugh and mentioned that Tim was so heavy now he must be bigger than his great aunt Bertha. Tim laughed and said, "I'm not that big, I can still wear clothing!" Al moved slowly back and forth along the floor, allowing the backs of his hands to graze the delicate linoleum and feel the cool of it upon his bare facial cheeks. "How long will I know this movement, Tim?" Al asked in wonder. "I am not sure, we should ask Wilson, " Tim replied.
Als skin began to get hot and delicate and he exclaimed that he was finished exercising. He stood, using his legs to support his upper body. He held his hands over his mouth and yawned. The day had finally begun.