Tables for Two • McLennon

Things Unknown

"Fifty-six... fifty-seven... fifty-eight... ah fuck!"

"Just a few more mate and we're done."

"NO.

"I'm going home and I have a child to feed."

With a loud thud, the heavy metal hit the ground.

"JOHN!"

It was a Sunday, meaning, John is expected to attend his regular workout session with Stuart Sutcliffe.

He had been surprisingly early for the gym honestly, if you ask him yourself, he was, too, a bit shocked with his punctuality on this specific meeting with Stu. Mainly because Cynthia was being a nagger once again.

For a habitual lot, John somehow always find a liking on storming out home from his now 5 year girlfriend- that is, Cynthia Powell of Hoylake with her straight blonde hair and rounded face. Something about her most of the timeㅡharsh tongue, drives John to insanity. Whether be about just picking grocery for the house or just feeding Julian.

"Stu, fuck it. You know well that I've walked out on Cyn righ'?" With a huff in the clogged air, John sat up from his laying position.

He had been halfway done with his barbel lifting for the day, but everything seemed to slowly drift him away from concentrating.

We can't afford John Lennon to loose his grip on the metal and his head in between the head rest and the bar.

He've seen that shit on youtube.

"Damn well I know Lennon, if you're not here just for push-ups and glider, I better know why you came in exactly 2 hours early,

And you fucking helped me with raggin' those damn dumbells," with a rather incredulous snigger, Stuart was shooting him a knowing brow-wriggling.

Somewhat comical, it is a gesture of both amusement and mockery. With that, John have to respond.

"We can't go on watching telly with a mouthful of that cat shit to be picked, Stu. Ya' go clean cat shit under the stairs then,"

"I've been cleaning smelly mats on this gym mate and believe me, man-sweat was a lingering snuff, so no, I'm fine here," and yet another hearty giggle filled the empty space.

It was only John and Stuart at 6 in the morning, for the gym is regularly opened on 8, except Saturdays because that is the day most people come in so it's opened half past seven.

You ask John how he knows? Stuart worked here as an employee, no, not a trainer, a cleaner. Fuck, the kid is lanky himself.

Stu worked on a daily basis at Vaughan's Muscle Maker which was built back in 1957, and was established by Ivan Vaughn's father, thank you.

If the name rang a bell, it definitely should, for Ivan was John's friend since elementary school, and the man is the life of any party he is in.

"I'm done for today Sutcliffe, better be som'where else than home. I'll give Cyn more time to rehearse her tear-jerking eulogy of mine,"
a wild sniffling sound and a rather quirky way of make-believe bawling was enough to make our ol' lad Stu smile, although a bit crooked, he knows how to distinguish a good joke.

Standing up from his crouching position from John, Stu almost tripped upon stretching up his legs. He had been on the same leg pose for almost half an hour, poorly assisting John on his lifting.

"Ya, go shitehea'. Thas' why that fucking biceps of yours look like it is pumped of air for a bit and then slowly limps away, you never finish working out,"

Perhaps Stu was right, it looks nice for a quick Instagram story; to somehow make people think that he has a very interesting life.

Not a cat shit picking father or what.

"Won't be needing shower then, since no sweat that workout is,"

So John Lennon went and picked his bag no one knows what's inside.

This day has a feel that it might be a busy day, well, none of us know exactly why, it is only 7:30 in the morning and maybe John was right.

"Dm me if Ivan asks for me Stu, he said he has something planned that might rouse a man's interest."

And that's that.

John Lennon exited the Vaughan's Muscle Maker.

And amongst all the hefty kilograms of metal gym equipments, more than the necessary rows of treadmill or thick piles of rope, the rubber mats sure is quite the deal in all honesty, that isㅡ according Stuart Sutcliffe himself.

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This story has been sitting on my work for a year now, and idk if anybody is reading this anymore but please do comment if i should continue. Thanks!!