December 21st, 2017 By Cupid

Five stout pax appeared in the gloom to embrace the cold rains of winter. Rather disappointed in the rain, they carried out the morning ritual beatdown.

“What was this horrific beatdown, Grandad?” Well gather round chilluns, and I’ll tell you all about it:

‘Twas 4 glooms before Christmas…
And from the greenway to tracks, not a creature was stirring but 5 brave pax.

The forecast was calling for rain like heck, so the Q made a plan for the parking deck,
But as they stood there looking into the sky, there was nary a drop, it was really quite dry,

The deck’s pretty smelly, and its also kind’a hot, so maybe I change the plans on the spot.
So I whistled and called out to the pax with a jeer, and the pax started moving, time to put it in gear,

On Grover, Private Ryan, on Mountie and Skinner! to Carolina courts! Let’s see who’s the winner!
Away we did dash down the street ‘cross the block, to the bottom of the ramp in the CC Parking lot.

Right here at the bottom We’ll start it all, line up for traveling Balls-to-the Wall.
We started with 6, walking hands to the right, each time you come back, add two more to your plight!

Then away we did bound up the stairs to the street for pain station 2 on your butts, cross your feet,
And make like a mason! Add in a twist, as if Thor’s hammer was clutched in your fists.

Give me 20 in cadence, and when you’re here once more, you’ll do it again adding 4 to the score.
Next we dashed to the corner of Cabarrus and Spring, under the Police Chief’s window to do the next thing.

How about some squats in this circle so dry, Lets do 20 & see if the Chief cares to spy,
but the window was dark so Mountie had nothing to fear. Add 4 to the count the next time you’re here.

Now onward we bounded through the deck with great revel, past a few sleepy cops to the very top level.
There in the quiet, as we gasped for air, we hammered out merkins, start out with 10 pair,

but the next time you’re here, you know what to do, add 4 more before you’re through.
Now bound down the stairs, hold your breath & don’t fall, run down the street and back to the wall.

Repeato! Repeato! Make haste! Dash away! This Mount Concord Remix is your pain for the day.
And as trips were made from the heights to the wall, the rain oh so softly started to fall.

We gave it our all, had our morning pain fix. Five rounds were made, Grover and Ryan made 6.

By the time to call Mary, we were soaked to the bone. Skinner and Ryan made off for their homes.
The three who were left headed back to the school and under a shelter

I Chose Freddy Mercs. I know we did 20. Mountie’s Homer-to-Marges, I lost count, it was plenty.
Ol’ Grover, no surprise he called brazillians. If not for the time, he’d have made us do millions.

But he settled for 20. Then we circled for prayer, intercedng for you fart-sackers, with the Man upstairs.

All were safe, it was done, another for the backblast. Shit, shower, shave, coffee and breakfast.
Much to be thankful for, especially for you. You’re the reason I return, you’re the reason I Q.

Thanks for indulging a poem so stupid. Have a great Christmas! Yours truly, Cupid.

Concord

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