Scene 1
The camera pans over Lake Michigan. It’s a dreary November day. A group of seagulls sits in the frozen sand, cold and unmoving. A blurry shape in the distance starts running toward the camera and toward the seagulls. It sprints through the seagull camp, hangs a left, and starts boxing a tree. Zoom in. The blurry shape is me, dressed in a flesh-colored parka, crushing it. Extreme zoom in on just my eyes. I look freaking intense; make it seem like there are flames in my retinas and lasers are shooting out of my pupils. Zoom out. The tree I’ve been punching falls down and a family of squirrels runs out of it, shrieking and horrified.
Scene 2
The lens is fogged up. All you can hear are the huffing and puffing of a totally ripped sweat demon hauling ass on an elliptical. Rub the camera lens with a cloth, and it becomes clear I’m pushing 210 revolutions per minute on my molten lava machine, practically rocketing myself into immortality. My legs are so fast they’re a blur, and yet I’m chilling, watching a TV show about making calzones. I laugh along with the hosts, then look directly at the camera, and suddenly start doing cartwheels backwards until I land perfectly in the leg press station. Cut to: A crowd of people gasping at my prowess, including the gym ID swiper Karen, who’s the hottest chick in the history of the world. The only other thing they’ve seen move like that is a rhino. I do ten reps at 350 lbs and collapse onto a stability ball, which throws me off. I’m pissed. I pick up the ball and throw it out the window. Cue sound of a car crashing.
Scene 3
I’m running down a dirt road in the woods. It’s peaceful. A slap bass starts pulsing. It gets louder and louder. It takes over the audio void left from everyone holding their breath, wondering if I’m man or machine. It gets so damn loud a crowd of people’s hips start shaking like a flamingo during an earthquake. But I’m still running. Some hotshot lawyer comes out of nowhere and tackles me. He was hiding behind a bunch of ferns the whole time. I stand up and say, “Hell no, man,” and as the lawyer sprints toward the sunset, I pick up a rabbit and chuck it two hundred yards. It hits the lawyer square in the anus, and he collapses and forks over 300,000 dollars.
Scene 4
It’s just me, man. Just me and my swell. I’m in a room made of windows, and four smokin’ hot babes and I are on separate mats on the floor, doing core exercises that would give Arnold Schwarzenegger four hernias and a case of asparagus urine. One of the babes asks me for help on a particular exercise. You know where this is going. I reply “I’m busy!” and do 5,000 crunches while suspended from a flagpole. The “Star Spangled Banner” plays, and the dog from Full House howls at the moon, while a skinny guy surfs in and saves a kid from getting hit in the face by a flying dictionary.
Scene 5
The freakin’ climax. I’m in a CrossFit class, doing lunges and acting bored as hell. I look toward the exit, which is a symbol for my goddamn innocence. I lunge toward the fresh air, but soon a pack of bloodhounds is on my trail. I climb aboard a stationary bike, kick the crap out of its stand, rev the engine, and ride it to the nearest skyscraper. I bust through the doors and dart up the emergency exit, ‘cause I know bloodhounds can only climb 40 floors before wussing out and turning into cats. We see the numbers going up: 1, 2, 20, 30, 38, 39. As I reach 40, I look back at the bloodhounds, who freeze in their tracks. They bark, I bark back, and they run off to their suburban Lexus parade where they belong. I do 50 pushups and wander down the fortieth floor office hallway. I walk right into my Scene 3 nemesis, the lawyer. At first we’re pissed, but then we reconcile because at the end of the sexually charged day, we’re just two guys doing the best we can on this chocolate rodeo we call life. Camera zooms out to show the US, the world, the Milky Way, and the known universe, which is then inside a marble that a weak alien is bench-pressing. This gives people the perspective necessary to take it down a notch, before taking it up 25 notches and yelling for more weight.