“Went to the gym last night, again.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve found this new thing, I do fifteen minutes with the ergometer, feels awesome.”

“What’s that, the rowing machine?”

“That’s right. I ergo, therefore I can.”

“Cool. Feel good now?”

“Ya betcha, been doing the ergo for a coupla weeks now, and I am like a new man now. No more chronological flus, man. No, sirree. My body is my church, as they say. And listen to this…”

“What?”

“Shhh.. just listen…”

“Well, you can touch the floor with your fingertips.”

“No sound in a healthy body, my friend. You should come to the gymposium with me some day. It’s good for ya. I’ll show you the ropes.”

“Yeah, that ergo thing sounds like fun.”

“No! I’ll show you the ropes. Skipping. That’s hard word, man. Hard work. Like Cassius Clay, eh-kay-eh, alias Mohammad Ali says: “Be more like Sting.” And Sting loves skipping rope, I read it in a magazine at the gymposium.”

“Yeah, sounds like fun. I’ll be there. Tomorrow good for you?”

“Perfect-o. See ya later, crocodile.”

“See ya.”