It was the summer of 1989. No, wait, 1999. Or maybe 2009. 2019? No, that hasn’t happened yet. To be honest, everyone on the goodr team was too blitzed to realize what year it was. But one thing we did know FOR SURE is that we were about to throw the office beach BBQ party of the CENTURY… or… decade?
Fuck it. Math is hard.
You know what else is hard? The collective abdominal strength on Muscle Beach on that fateful summer day.
The goodr squad hopped on a tandem bike shortly after several shots of Fireball and made their way to the famous sands of Venice. The mission? Get lit, get fit, and flex on the locs with their toned bods. Afterward, a celebratory grill sesh just for the sake of creating fire and burning stuff with it.
What we didn’t realize is the pure steel we’d be up against in the weight-pen.
Upon arrival, we discovered there were otherworldly creatures posing as absolutely shredded humanoids, participating in a Firebreather test. You could tell they were of a different planet due to their non-perspiring skin and incredible endurance. This is not your average day at the beach.
While the yoked extraterrestrials proceeded to complete rep after rep without a bead of sweat, there was one actual human on the yard, beasting through the workout with normal bodily functions occurring: Francois the Firebreather. A local sensation, known to blow flames as high as the human eye can see, BEAST out at CrossFit, and on occasion accidentally commit arson.
Watching Francois pull a modern day John Henry against the aliens, the goodr team realized that they had no place in this race and that the best thing they could do was sit back and watch other people work out, and pretend that they were them. That, and get the coals burnin’, because tummies were rumblin’.
Well, that plan got a flat tire really quick when Rob realized he forgot to bring lighter fluid, a lighter, a match. Rob… you had ONE job.
Needless to say he was buried 6 feet deep in the sand until we felt he’d really embraced how hard he screwed up.
Without a hot grill, there was no food. And without any food, there was no protein. And without protein, the fate of the human race was on the line. We panicked. Carl thought running around in circles and flailing our arms while singing “The Macarena” would create some attention (I mean imagine a flamingo doing this, how could you not notice such majestic movement?), but the visitors of the famed beach’s eyes were glued to the speedos and muscles.
So naturally, we all decided to take a shot of Fireball to kill our appetites. Except for Rob, who was very much buried until the burgers were ready. At this point, we were all willing to sacrifice Rob for a hot fire if it came down to it.
Just then, an explosion happened before our eyes. The gym had disappeared, and a cloud of smoke left in its place. Emerging from the smoke like some kind of superhero, was Francois the Firebreather. A roar from the crowd of onlookers proved his heroism didn’t go unnoticed.
The alien robots had been destroyed, and the faith of humanity was restored. It turns out Francois found the goodr Fireball stash and had himself a nice handle pull as a substitute for his usual pre-workout, resulting in a fiery burp that torched his alien opponents, leaving behind a pile of scrap metal and DNA that would later be sold to the government for millions of dollars.
We slapped a pair of BEAST goodr frames on Francois as a gift for destroying the alien invaders that would certainly have destroyed the planet. Francois, now relieved from the blazing, harmful sun rays, saw our un-lit grill and that there were post-workout gains to be ingested. So, he lent his fire-breathing talents to get the goodr grill started, and saved us all from dying from heat exhaustion and starvation.
Some heroes don’t wear capes. Some heroes destroy alien scum on the regs, and breathe fire.
Oh, and we forgot about Rob… RIP Rob.