Feathers had a bad dream Thursday night. Before Mr. Sandman came to whisk him off to dreamland, our ever-willing-to-Q Feathers had agreed on Slack to sub in as Q for the originally-scheduled and still-recovering Homer. Feathers called for coupons then hit the sack.
Feathers gained consciousness in a small, pitch-black compartment. He could not move, and much to his shock and horror he realized he possessed neither arms nor legs, nor even a head! What was he? Where was he? Feathers became aware of a sensation of forward motion, as if his compartment was vibrating like the drone of tires on asphalt. He felt the mysterious compartment he was in come to a halt. A crack of light suddenly peered in as the roof of the compartment popped open gently, soft streetlamp light glowing in from the scene of the Bridge parking lot.
The roof swung open, and much to Feathers’ surprise, a bleary-eyed Popper gazed in, picked him up with two hands, extracting him from his compartment before shutting it, rested him on a shoulder, and began walking.
It was at this point Feathers realized: he had transformed into a cinderblock.
Coupons in hand, 11 PAX assembled at the Bridge patio. None of these PAX bore the moniker of Feathers, though unbeknownst to them, Feathers was in their midst. The clock struck 5:30, and the PAX scanned about warily for their Q sub in the gloom. Helpless on the ground at Popper’s feet, with no mouth nor voice to announce his arrival, Feathers could do nothing but wait and see what would happen.
Popper shouted the disclaimer over the sound of a semi truck delivering the day’s foodstuffs to the local shops, and the PAX were off.
Feathers and the other coupons remained on the patio, while the PAX moseyed a lap around the town green, which gave Popper a minute to gather his thoughts on what would be his second impromp-Q of the week. One PAX suggested a trip to the namesake Bridge, which Popper accepted. High knees and butt-kickers before circling back on the patio for SSH, weed picker, windmill, and arm circles.
The PAX coupon-carried to the base of the Bridge. Once settled, the PAX partnered up for the following:
One pair at a time ascends the bridge with their coupons, traverses the length of the bridge and back with one PAX doing farmer’s carry w/both coupons while the other PAX bear crawls, switching back and forth as needed as PAX get tired.
Before this pair leaves, they assign two exercises for the remaining PAX, who alternate doing 10 reps exercise A and 10 reps exercise B continually until the pair return.
When the pair returns, the next pair assigns two exercises and ascends the bridge.
Poor Feathers was curled, swung as a kettle-bell, lifted overhead in skull crushers and overhead presses, and a number of other dizzying acrobatics, not to mention carried across the bridge and back. Feathers would have thrown up, except that he had neither stomach nor mouth.
Once all pairs (and one group of 3) took a turn on the bridge, PAX did a 10-count then coupon-carried back to the town green.
For the next exercise, Popper called an extended Mary. Same partner groups, same basic template.
One pair at a time moseys around the town green, stopping at the pull-up bar for each PAX to do 10 pull-ups while the other holds plank.
Before this pair leaves, they assign two Mary / core exercises for the remaining PAX, who alternate doing 10 reps exercise A and 10 reps exercise B continually until the pair return.
When the pair returns, the next pair assigns two exercises and moseys the lap.
Poor Feathers was tossed side-to-side in coupon Am-Hams, jostled up-and-down in chest presses, along with other barf-worthy motions that would make a lesser coupon cry.
Once all pairs (and one group of 3) took a turn on the mosey lap, PAX did a 10-count then lined up in single file with coupons in hand.
The final minutes would comprise an Indian Zamperini around the town green.
PAX hold coupon overhead while walking single file,
Last PAX jogs to the front w/coupon overhead.
At least one tripping / coupon-drop disaster was averted by our stalwart PAX.
In the final 5 minutes of the beatdown, the PAX took two laps around the town green, with mumble chatter after the first lap at realizing we were not finished.
Feathers viewed this as his victory laps after all the earlier commotion of the morning.
Prayers for loss of loved ones, coworkers.
Wingnut’s VQ on Monday 3/15 at The Hooch. Be there.
Feathers opened his eyes at 6:05am, staring at his ceiling from the warmth of his bed. He raised his arms. He wiggled his toes. His stomach belched a morning-breath burp through his mouth. “I’m not a coupon!” he cried in victory. His M looked over in confusion. Feathers turned to face her. “F3 stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”