Thursday, January 15, 2009

Creative Endeavor Numero Uno: A micro story

The MD Club

As an investigative reporter it is your job to delve into the icky, the sticky, the gicky, the straight up shitty and everything else that rhymes. So what is the secretive and exclusive M Club? At first glance it seems to be a bunch of muscle bound weight lifting enthusiasts doing what their kind do best – gloating … together … At second glance you think about the illicit. They’re too muscle bound to be normal, so maybe they’re a bunch of steroid enthusiasts? But ah ha, you never actually see any of them lift weights or take anything drug-like, nor do they seem especially enraged or possess shrunken … ahem. Days of hiding out in dumpsters peeking through lids; fake wigs and gaudy makeup incognito while in an assortment of dive clubs and other establishment; renting out next door apartments and poor excuses for being around them all the time as you follow and record their every move proved to be fruitless and smelly. Maybe it’s an inhalant that gives you muscle without any exercise? Yea, but after breaking into their homes you realize an astonishing truth while looking at their childhood photos in a fit of nosiness and romantic imaginings – not only are these individuals muscle bound now, they’ve always been muscle bound. Talk about buff youngsters. Talk about buff babies!!

Intrigued and frustrated, this mystery would have swallowed you whole and left you with no answers had it not been for the article. Schwarzenegger dog – super muscled dog due to deficient myostatin gene. Eureka! And the mystery is solved. MD Club stands for Myostatin Deficiency Club. And then from there you obsess over secret Nazi breeding programs left over from World War Two to produce these super buff creatures of human likeness who must go about in secrecy … Only to be met with the very real conclusion, after witnessing a yamaka wearing member with the physical and facial likeness of Kal-El of Krypton, that maybe they were just born this way – children the result of gods fucking around with mortal women. Cot damn!

Of course, simply asking would have saved you all the fun trouble.

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