"Hey Jazzy Pants" comes from behind me.
"Go fuck your mother" I quickly respond.
"Why do you have to insult my mom? I am going to tell her that the next time she thinks about sending you Christmas cookies"
"I do love me some Christmas cookies"
"Anyways" he starts "wait; now I really just want some cookies"
"Em"
"Yeah, so I am moving my workouts to the pool since the AC is down in the gym."
I can't even hide my reluctance. "cool cool. I am just going to sweat it out at the gym. Remember, sweat is tears leaving your body when you work it hard and all that shit."
"Dude, is this about your scares on your chest? I thought we got over that business. I told you, they are just your battle wounds. Your badges of honor. Chicks love scares. Seriously man, what do you do when you are banging a chick?"
The "badge of scars" he refers to are the wonderful fucked up marks I received 3 years ago while we were in the desert. Let me tell you, when someone says watch the fuck where you are walking; you watch the fuck you are walking. I just recall feeling heat over every single inch of my body .The next thing I remember was waking up at some Army Hospital before I got sent home.
I fucking hate these scars. Thankfully the worst of it can be covered by my shirt because they are located on my chest. You know that movie "Pay it forward" when Kevin Spacy was burned or some shit. It looks like that.
"As fun as this conversation is I actually have work to do." I tell him trying to end the conversation.
"Don't we all, you still down for drinks tonight at the bar?"He says before he is walking out.
"Like I have anything else to do"