Cankles and Ice Cream

No one's moving at pace. It's so hot, unbelievably hot. India-hot. The metallic click clack of the aluminum crutches is slower than ever. Kevin's hands are sliding off the foam covered grips which are disintegrating in his hands. He should've splashed out and rented a pair from the Fracture Clinic instead of borrowing Greg's. At the best of times, Greg's indelicate. These crutches have been marauded by a 270 pound hockey player with recurring ACL issues. Live and learn. If he can just make it into the grocery store he can hover near the frozen food aisle, the one with the open freezers lined up like cavernous coffins, damning them all to hell with their environmental scourging of the planet. Screw that, Kevin is hot. His ankle is swollen up three times it's regular size. Cankles, Kelly calls them. She's having a field day with this. Mr. I'm-So-Sporty takes a header while trying to play frisbee golf half in the can, three sheets to the wind, completely shitfaced, while wearing vibram five finger toe shoes. God those things are ugly. Kelly refuses to be seen with him when he wears them outside of crossfit. He showed up one night to take her to see Iron Man and she turned around and sat back down on the couch.They're just wrong, is all she'll say. And your feet reek. Kevin thinks they're dorky too but it's what all the cool kids are wearing and you know Kevin. Gotta do more, gotta be more.  Plus he feels like Aquaman. Which is a good thing. Going to need a new pair though since they had to slice the one off his right foot. It didn't feel so bad at first then the EMT reminded him when the booze and pot wear off it's going to hurt like a son of a bitch. Boy was he right. A fistful of T3's and he's staying ahead of the pain. Now he's craving almond M and M's and Hob Nobs with Root Beer. The good thing about being addicted to working out is that when he cheats, he goes big. Plus, it's early days yet. He can milk the sympathy card for comfort crap. In two more weeks though his ass is gonna balloon out to the size of Aunt Barbara's, cankles and all. Might as well make this meal count. There's ice cream to be had, maple syrup and all.

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