A Three Act ‘Play’ About Little Black Tank and the Stretching Machine
Act 1: There is a man at your gym who is built like a tank. Like a little black tank. When your gym was closed and you had to go to the gross musclehead gym that smelled like pit, he was there. You always notice him, not just because he is a Little Black Tank, but also because he seems to be a personal trainer for halfway house residents. Every time you see him he is working out with a different fat man. All of the fat men smell like cigarette smoke, and you swear the Mexican one he works out with sometimes is drunk. None of them appear employed or employable.
Act 2: Your night is broken with strange dreams, one of which involves you deciding that you want to ram your car into another car. You do this and then realize that you wish you had not rammed into that car. Then Little Black Tank appears and not only was it his car that you rammed into, but he also knows your name and demands that you help him put one of these into the backseat of his now damaged car. Later he tries to convince you that some chipped paint on the dashboard of his car is chipped because of you ramming into the back bumper. You assure him not only that this is impossible but that you are not going to pay for it. He respects you standing up for yourself, and you both share a laugh. That morning you awake and think that it is really weird to be dreaming about Little Black Tank, and probably kind of gay.
Act 3: That same afternoon at the gym your mind is officially BLOWN when Little Black Tank comes up and starts talking to you. Not only that but, and this is the part where your cognitive function starts completely breaking down, he is talking to you about BRUCE LEE’S WORKOUT ROUTINE.
NOTE: replace all of the “you” and “your”s in this post with “Worker #3116″ and “Worker #3116’s”s to turn this play into a true story from life.