El Gluteo

(Kr)  Wish you were here for dinner.  So you could make it.

(Ke)   Whatcha servin'?

(Kr)  You misunderstood.   I wish to be served.

(Ke)  Why I oughta.

(Kr)  You oughta what?  Make a delicious meal for me?  Yes.  Yes you should.

(Ke)  We're having Mexican lasagna.

(Kr)  That sounds home cooked and tasty as all get out.

(Ke)  It's both.

(Kr)  I must go to the gymnasium now and exercise my muscles.

(Ke)  Calisthenics are healthy.

(Kr)  Ok, gotta go.  Don't try to stop me by convincing me that relaxation is good for me.  I'll hear none of it.

(Kr)  Well, I guess I could hear a little of it.

(Ke)  I think you should go get 'em.

(Kr)  You monster.  Don't complain when my abs are extremely taut.

(Ke)  I will complain.  A lot.

(Kr)  I won't be able to hear you over my throbbing, toned muscles.  Most of my blood used for hearing goes straight to my tight glutes.

(Ke)  Barf.

15 minutes later . . .

(Ke)  I thought you were going to work out?

(Kr)  Didn't realize you were a personal trainer.

(Ke)  Obviously.

(Kr)  Putting my socks on.  Happy?

(Kr)  I lied about that sock thing.

(Ke)  I don't talk to liars.

(Kr)  Just bending the truth until it breaks.  Then smashing it and setting it on fire.

Another 15 minutes later . . .

(Kr)  My view from the bike whilst exercising said glutes.  It might look like the computer from War Games, but I assure you it's a sweatcycle.

(Kr)  Put that in your homemade Mexican lasagna.


(Ke)  I need a sweat cycle.