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Gym Nut

Injured by his own Indignation

By Cam RascoePublished 3 years ago 11 min read
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Botching the Battle of the Bulge

“What is wrong with that guy? He’s going to break that machine if he keeps slamming those weights down like that.”

“You’re right, and then it’s going to take them six months to fix it. That guy is a big jerk.”

“So, you going to go over there and ask him to stop before he breaks something Tom?

“Well, I hadn’t planned on it. How about you, are you willing to go over there and tell him to stop it?”

Bill looked over at the six foot eight inch, bald Polish immigrant and thought better of it. He didn’t want to anger the large man provoking him to become physical. Bill liked his gym and wanted the rules followed but not enough to suffer bodily harm for it.

“Well like you said Tom, he’s a BIG jerk and I haven’t had a fist fight in over thirty years. I hung up my gloves years ago and that is where they will stay. But, we could write a strongly worded letter to the management about it.”

Tom and Bill shared a laugh about their unwillingness to address the problem head on but then agreed to speak with the manager and document the event and outcome. The two men followed through, drafting a letter and presenting it to the manager on duty at the gym. Their concerns were received well, employees of the gym had previously reported similar behavior from the giant Pol. Tom and Bill were assured that the problem would be addressed and they were thanked for bringing it to the management’s attention. The two gentlemen left the conversation confident they had made a change for the better in the gym they so loved.

The next morning when he arrived at the gym Big Bartlomiej, or just Bart, the offender was asked to sit down with the manager and head trainer.

“Sir we’ve asked you to sit down with us this morning to discuss your treatment of the equipment and machines in the gym. We value our machines and we would like all of our members to value them the same. It has been brought to our attention that you can be a bit rough, for lack of a better word.”

Bart scoffed at the manager and trainer; he looked both of the smaller men up and down smirking. The manager continued on, confused by the man’s behavior.

“Sir do you understand?”

Condescendingly Bart answered while looking down his nose at the men.

“I use the equipment like everyone else. Am I rougher, I don’t know. But, I pay like everyone else. Do you call them in here and ask how they’re using the machines?”

Both the manager and trainer were slightly irritated by the man’s response.

“Yes sir we understand you pay like everyone else but that doesn’t give you the right to destroy our property.”

Again, out came the smirk and snide comments.

“What property have I destroyed. C’mon fellas, I think you’re getting carried away here.”

The head trainer tried his best to hold his temper in check while answering the belligerent member.

“Sir that is why we sat you down, to prevent equipment from being damaged or broken. Can you understand where we are coming from?”

Bart’s smirk slowly faded and formed a snarl.

“No! This is America and I am free to do what I want. I pay, I haven’t broken anything; why are you harassing me!?”

The manager stepped back in.

“Bart no one is harassing you, We are just trying to protect our company’s property.”

“By harassing me? That is not protecting properly that is making bad with your members. I don’t know what your problem is; I am going to go workout. If I break anything, I’ll let you know.”

Bart stood, pushed his chair back and stormed off. Both the manager and head trainer stood quickly out of fear of having to defend themselves. They were relieved when they saw him storming off. They looked at one another and smiled, each of them amused by the other’s fear. They decided that they should both document the incident and warning while listening to Boris bang and drop weights in the distance. Now they had two statements from management as well as two witness statements and complaints from members.

Big Bart thought his conversation with the staff of his gym to be humorous and fruitless. He didn’t take them serious and he didn’t respect the smaller men or whoever may have reported him. He slammed his weights even harder. Every time he did it, Boris looked around daring anyone to say a word to him about his behavior. He got some looks, all of which he returned with an evil leer. Bart was trying to figure out who may have complained about him.

He searched the gym floor with his eyes as he slammed and slammed. Bart walked bigger, bolder that day as he sweat on machines and failed to wipe them down. Bart, the hefty heal, spat in the water fountains leaving thick yellow phlegm around the bowl and drain. In the locker room he relieved himself on the toilet seat and floor in the first stall. Disdain he held in his heart for the gym and he showed it in his vindictive actions. He had no friends there, took no classes and participated in no groups. He didn’t stand around and chit chat with those fools, he wasn’t there to make friends.

On the drive home he thought of other ways to get revenge on the people at the gym. Bart spoke out loud to himself.

“They think I’m too rough huh? I’ll show them what rough is. You want to cry little sissy boys, Bartlomiej will give you something to cry for! You don’t know who you’re messing with. I eat little punks like you for breakfast.”

The angry brute pulled into his apartment complex still fuming and ready for war. He slammed the door to his one bedroom apartment behind him, flipped on the light switch and plopped down on the couch. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television. Bart grumbled to himself as he rifled through his pantry in an attempt to find something to eat, nothing. His refrigerator and freezer were just as empty. On the counter he found a power bar and ripped the package open. Again he spoke out loud to himself in the absence of company.

“Well, I guess it’s pizza again tonight. I guess I’ll go with the meat lovers.”

Bart was a lonely man with no family or love interest in the United States. He came to the country with his ex-fiancée who quickly grew tired of him being so controlling and selfish. They didn’t last more than six months together. She found her an American beau with more modern views. Eva grew tired of Bart’s old world ways. His insensitivity towards her thoughts, feelings and dreams wore thin on her as well. She enjoyed telling him how inadequate he was as a lover and partner as she walked out on him. To Bart three years later the apartment still smelled of her. When the air conditioning kicked on, it whispered her name. Eva never left his heart or his thoughts.

Now Bart spent all of his free time alone or at the gym, alone. After work the following day he was back to the gym to abuse it and all it’s people. He blew threw the doors with the nastiest of looks on his face, ready to do damage. Bart swiped his badge on the sensor as he and the woman at the counter exchanged dirty looks. Bart sat down hard on his favorite low row machine. He snatched the pin from its slot and stuck it back in at the bottom of the stack of plates. Bart was doing the maximum weight with his normal poor form. Instead of keeping his back straight and using his arms to control the weight, he rocked his body forward and backward to pull it up and let it down. The plates slammed loudly every time he rocked forward. He lost control to the point where the weight jerked him up off the seat every time the plates crashed down.

Little did Bart know that all of his abuse of that particular machine had taken its toll. The cable was becoming frayed and the wheel that held it was loosened from him constantly jerking on it for the past three years. As he pulled back hard, the wobbly wheel pinched the cable in a frayed area snapping it. It sent Bart flying backwards and his feet flying out in front of him. His right foot landed in line with the plates as they came crashing down for the last time. The weight crushed his foot, breaking it in several places. Macho man Bart screamed a high pitch scream as he cried for help. His foot was pinned down under the weight, he cried out for help but no one came to his rescue. Many people watched his misery and took pleasure in it but initially no one said a word.

Slowly people started to giggle and make snide comments about Bart’s painful plight. He was incensed.

“So I see trying to break everything in the gym finally bit you in the ass. Ha ha ha.”

“No, I bet it feels more like he shot himself in the foot. Ha ha.”

The veins in Bart’s head looked like they were about to burst.

“Very funny, when I get out of here I will crush you both you weak little men. I will crush you!”

“Oh, like you crushed your foot you idiot. Ha ha.”

Bart pounded the floor next to him. Blood started to leak from his sneaker, obviously his foot was cut under the weight of the plates. Tom and Bill approached the crowd gathering around Bart as he lay there like a big bear caught in a trap. The two retired gentlemen now felt empowered to comment as well.

“He looks like a trapped animal.”

“Do you think he will try to chew his leg off to get free?”

“I don’t think he could chew anything too tough with those weak, rotten teeth in his mouth. You ever smell that guy’s breath? It almost knocked me out flat from three feet away.”

Tom and Bill laughed, everyone else joined in their laughter.

“Keep laughing old man. I will snap your head off of your shoulders. All of you, I will destroy you all! Now go get me some help!”

Just then employees of the gym approached in time to hear Bart cursing and throwing threats around to the other members. It took some time but with a crowbar and wood block the stack was lifted and Bart’s foot was freed from the machine. Once free Bart started berating and threatening everyone around him in his deep thick accent. The angrier he got the thicker his accent became.

“I will sue this gym! Look at my foot! You bunch of idiots need to take care of your equipment better. What kind of business are you running here where you don’t maintenance your machines. All of you fools who think it’s so funny, Bart sees you; you better watch your backs. I will be back for revenge.”

The manager was now present.

“Sir, help is on the way, just please try to remain calm and conscious.”

“Calm and conscious? My foot is fractured and bleeding you silly little man. You will be named in my lawsuit too. You’re responsible for taking care of this place and you’re failing at you’re job you fool!”

The manager had finally had enough of the big jerk and fired back.

“I suggest you stop threatening everyone here and take a look at yourself. You broke this machine yourself and in doing so you harmed yourself severely. I believe it is karma; we have spoken to you about you abusing the equipment but you were belligerent then escalated your behavior. We have documentation, witness statements as well as video on you and your nonsense so you go right ahead and try to sue us. Good luck buddy, now just sit there and shut up, no one is afraid of you anymore and as of today you are officially no longer a member of this gym.”

Bart was outraged.

“I got hurt on your machine and you are going to try to kick me out?!”

“Yes, for destruction of property. The wear and tear you have caused on our machines has far exceeded your membership dues.”

Once at the hospital Bart learned that he would need a series of surgeries to repair the damage done to his foot and ankle. He looked into getting a personal injury attorney and tried to sue the gym. Bart failed miserably. The gym’s attorneys had twenty members of the gym deposed and write witness and character statements on the notorious Big Bart. Draining his finances to fuel a grudge left Boris destitute and dumpy. Being so focused on his revenge and recovering from his injuries; Bart hadn’t worked out in ten months. He was now no longer a member of a gym since he was banned from his gym who had since bought all of the gyms and fitness centers in his area. Bart was struggling financially as well which compounded his problem.

The gym nut was now transforming into a pudgy, portly Polish sausage. Big Bartlomiej was still big but now he was almost as wide as he was tall. He would rant to anyone who would listen about how he’d been wronged by that awful gym. Bart would never let it go or see his fault in the matter. Instead of a gym nut he was now just a crazy, angry fat guy.

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About the Creator

Cam Rascoe

Author Cam Rascoe born Cameron Marquee Rascoe on August 3rd 1973 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania is a multi talented artist utilizing his God given gifts to educate, entertain and inspire his fellow man.

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