Ficlets

Arnold hoisted the pair of two hundred pound dumbbells above his shoulders, chin trembling as he pushed the steel bars upward. Barely finishing the last of ten shoulder presses, he dropped the weights to the floor with a thud. “Yes!” Arnold yelled. “Sixty years old and I’m still the strongest man alive!” He placed the dumbbells on the weight rack and then posed in front of the cracked basement mirror, vascular biceps bulging into grapefruit sized spheres.

Arnold, don’t hurt yourself down there,” Maria yelled from the top of the stairs. She grabbed a bundle of dirty clothes then walked downstairs. After placing each piece of clothing inside the washer, she piled a clean load into an empty wicker basket.

“What do you miss about your body building days, Arny?” Maria asked as she started folding towels. “I miss all the hoopla – the lights, the competition, people cheering.”

“Eight – hang on – nine, and ten. What, honey?” Arnold asked as he finished a set of barbell curls.

“Oh, never mind,” Maria said.