Reconciliation

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and to all our ships at sea, I have a confession to make.*

I need to make reconciliation, and it needs to be done, here, in a public forum.

I have been separated from Jim for many months now, and it’s high time we get back together.

Oh, crap, I’m sorry. Did I spell that as “Jim?”

Silly me, I don’t know where my head’s at! That’s supposed to be “Gym.” You know, spelled G-Y-M! ** (last name is "Nasium." Yes, I went there.)

Dear Gym,

I miss those early morning walks, Gym. You remember, where I’d come by and we’d watch the news together or listen to some Old Time Radio shows while walking…

I miss the way my heart would race when we were together!

I remember how good you made me feel!

Remember how much I would sweat when we were together, Gym?

…erm…uh…Hold the phone there, folks…

Ok, I may have overdone it and hit the Creepy Allegory Zone with that last one. Sorry about that, kids. Heh.

Anyway, I miss you, Gym.

I’m coming to see you tomorrow! I’ll wear those ratty shorts and the tiki shirt that I know you like!

(cue music, cut to me running across a meadow and then stopping half way because I’m winded…)


*OK, two confessions, actually. The second one is I couldn’t remember how to spell “reconciliation.”
** not to be confused with “Jym,” long time drummer for the Mr. T Experience. We’ve never been linked romantically, but the man is one hell of a drummer!