And here we are, a bit later than I'd like. Now, in this episode, we answer the question: Do you even lift, bro?

Standard disclaimer rules apply. I don't really know you, nor do I know anyone you might know...so any similarity to such persons, alive or dead, fictional or not, are purely coincidental.

Thank you for all the feedback, I love you all, in a totally platonic way.

"To sleep, perchance to dream" Shakespeare states, in some play or another. And boy, did I dream. Unusually vivid, vaguely terrifying dreams with subjects I've never before considered, such as planets and wormholes and diffuse temporal gravities; I didn't even know what that last bit was! Yet somehow in the dream I did, and knew it to be dangerous. In my dreams I wore glasses, and droned on about such dry subjects to those people present, none of whom I recognized, while in the background a barycentric dual star wobbled its way on an eternal trek to who knew where.

Of course the sight was breathtaking, even as my droning was causing a certain amount of glassy eyed yawnitis among those present. Even knowing it was a dream, my breath was taken away momentarily as the 2 dwarfs started inhaling each other in a cannibalistic frenzy; large streamers of gases spewing from their paths like multi-hued confetti as the stars themselves inverted. The sight was almost enough to make me not notice that my voice had been different;and those I was lecturing to (another discrepency, as I don't really know enough about anything to lecture to anyone, excepting maybe baseball) towered over me like so many human giants.

But the weirdest part of the dream, was that I knew what would happen to the stars and the local galaxy...I knew it wasn't our galaxy, nor our stars, knew there was no life on any of the planets near, and knew what I was seeing; at the same time I knew I knew nothing of the temporal or quantum mechanics involved.
I had no idea what my dream was all about, it was way over my head.

At any rate, when my alarm went of promptly at 6:45am, I awakened feeling refreshed and happy; weird dream or no. I still had a bit of homework to do, but not much, and the headache was nothing but a memory. There was no blood on my pillow, so my nose hadn't bled. The sun was shining through my window, I could smell pancakes and sausage downstairs, and all was right with the world. by 7 I was downstairs, showered dressed and with books open at the table, putting the finishing touches on my English paper.

Of course the way I was stuffing myself with sausages was frowned upon, but nothing was said. Ian sat beside me, a book no one forced him to read in one hand, speared pancake in the other, silently whiling away the time till he was forced to go to school, like myself. I swear, such a geek sometimes; I loved him, but between the computers and books, he was bully fodder. At least he wasn't small or weak, while he preferred not to, he could defend himself. I shook my head, I always liked a good fight. Oh well, I had his back, like always.

This time It was my turn to do the dishes, but breakfast is always easy enough. The worst is always my dad's plate...he had a tendency to use an entire bottle of syrup for his pancakes (yech!) and it always took a year to get the plate clean.

"So no practices today Myrc?"

"No dad, nothing but a little weight training, optional stuff. Can't practice too much or we'll all be sidelined."

I winced, that thought bringing up my balance issues from yesterday; Hope that crap was over with.

"Good point. So... eat enough? between you and Ian, I'm thinking I'll need a mortgage on the house to be able to pay for the food!"

I rolled my eyes, catching Ian doing the same. "Please, like we can keep up with you."

"Another good point.' mom chimed in, 'but heaven help us all, you might both be having growth spurts at the same time. Two Campbell men, hungry and growing, let loose upon the grocer community!"

I watched amused as my father tried to act like Godzilla, stomping around the house...he could almost pull it off.

"Later family, time for the mind numbing school experience."

I ran out before my dad could start in on the Rodan impression; parents are more than a bit embarrassing at times.

I ran into Ricky dribbling a basketball down the street while walking to school; we both live somewhat close to school, and each other (a good pick up game was only a street away!).

"Hey man! Take a break, and tell me what you did for English." I was hoping, just this once, to find company in misery; he was almost as bad as I was.

"Screw that dude, tell me if you managed to score that new Avenged Sevenfold album; that first release sounds amazing."

"Heh; it's not new, it's a year old, and that's the third release from the album. But yeah I haven't burned you a copy yet; I was too busy with the stupid Macbeth paper Mrs. Holmes wanted; I'll do it later today. But...I do come bearing rumors! that rumorhasit guy stated that Avenged Sevenfold is almost done with their self titled album, and that it will be glorious."

"Niiiice, will you get me that one too? You know you're more up on the music scene than I am."

"Yeah yeah, soon as it comes out, I'll get it, you know me. Can't wait around or it'll get moldy. So anyway, English...Macbeth? what was your paper on?"

"you're that curious?' Ricky responded with a laugh, 'I'll have you know my paper was on how smokin hot Lady Macbeth had to be to get the dude to keep killing everyone he cared about."

"You can't be serious; Mrs. Holmes is going to fail you if you keep doing stuff like that you know."

"Hey I'll have you know it was well thought out. And if you're going to be a critic, what was yours on?"

"Mine was on how his psychological demons and impatience led to not only a disaster, but the worst form of wish fulfillment Macbeth could ever get. How Macbeth couldn't stop his own descent into madness because he couldn't take a step back and recognize the form his insanity took."

"...whoa man, deep...you win, you'll get an A for sure this time!"

I blinked. yeah I would, wouldn't I?

The first class of the day was science, otherwise known as physics 101 and a good way to set the tone for the sleep fest that was next class, or algebra 101. I shared both classes with Ricky and a few others from the team I wasn't as close to; as well as Ricky's arch nemesis and resident school villain, Gordo. Now while I have no problem with Gordon Thompson, who was nicknamed 'flash' because of some obscure movie or other, from what I understand.

He was actually a tight end known for being a bulldozer on the field...and for hating my best buddy.
Nearly 200 lbs of corn fed blonde haired blue eyed Aryan poster child, running over all opposition. I was perfectly willing to live and let live myself, but due to Ricky's loathing of football players in general and Gordon in particular for some middle school slight that I chose not to remember, we got into the occasional fight or two. In fact, it was Gordo who broke my nose...twice. I did not hold this against him, but Ricky oddly enough, despite getting me into those fights in the first place, did. He had a long list of things tohate Gordo for...I saw it once.

"Hey fatass, move, you're hogging up all the air." Smooth, Ricky. I will state again for the record, there is absolutely no evidence of fat on Gordo.

"Gordon, how are you today?" Civility, to hopefully stop this from getting out of hand; almost no chance, with Ricky walking right up to Gordon (who was actually out of the
way, at the lab table near the wall) and trying to pick a fight. But stranger things have happened.

"Pretty good Pansy, want to get dicky out of here before I destroy him?" Well, there went that plan. Almost guaranteed to have fireworks later in the day now.

"Just leaving, Gordo, need to inform the zoo about the escaped gorilla that made it's way to science class. Later."

Once we were out of range, I let Ricky (who was, oddly enough, my lab partner...go figure)have it: "What the hell, man, cant you put that feud on a slow boil or something? Now hes going to make trouble for us by the end of the day, you know it."

"bah, let him try, I'll kick his ass."

"Except last time he almost had you dead till I helped...and it took us both to put him down,"

"Then it's a good thing there are two of us, huh?"

My grin matched his: "whatever...just don't see why you have to antagonize him so much; seriously, what did he do to you that was that bad?"

"You want to see the list again?"

"oh heck no."

"Mr Tanner, Mr Campbell, would you two like some alone time to discuss your issues? Like say, after class in detention?"

"No thank you sir, we're good."

"So I can start class now?"

"Sure thing, Sir."

"Thank you. So today class, it's time to start a week long project...I want kites made of homemade materials, no store bought items except the string, which I will provide. If it flies, you get an A; if not you fail. Time to learn about how birds, bats, and planes defy gravity, as stated on pages 111 through 154 in our texts."

After a hearty class of Reading and passing notes filled with jokes to each other, and of course as little real work as we could get away with, it was time for that boring hell known as math. It was located in the classroom just down the hall, which made it fairly convenient to get to, and if you planned right, you didn't even need to go to your locker after physics.

Luckily, my desk for this hell was clear in the back, where our beloved Mr. Mullins of the droning voice couldn't see me sleep unless he actually wanted to, which was a rare occurrence. Unfortunately, Ricky was halfway across the classroom, and Pam was a few chairs down. I was stuck next to a guy known as Rolph. Now Ralph was a good guy. He just happened to be a mutant. He was pretty obviously one, having orange dayglo hair and being just a bit stronger than us normal guys; but judging by the fact that he was still here and not out playing super hero or villain, or not taken by the gestapo loving mutant commission office (MCO for short), he was doubly out of luck; a mutant, but not one with powers, he got the best of mutant hatred and none of the benefits being a mutant could offer.

I knew him before the change, as we both grew up here, before and after. He was an OK guy, but a little bitter since his change, and I didn't blame him. I always made a point not to mention his hair (the reason for his new nickname) and call him by name. He had it bad enough as it was.

"hey Ralph, what'd you have down for question 6?"

"keep it down,' he said, eyes ahead on our tormentor. 'I had 4. Why?"

Sonofa...if Ralph said it, it was likely true. "It really was 4 then? weird. I got it right."

He glanced at me, then turned and looked, really looked. "Yeah,' he replied in a weird tone of voice ' you got it right."

That...was plain creepy. After giving him a return 'wth?' look, I started paying attention to Mr. Mullins droning while graphing some polynomials. X = 2, X = -3, etc, etc.
Boring.

"Dude, wake up. seriously."

"Huh? Oh, thanks Ralph. I owe you one." Again with that look of his.

"No problem man, just try not to fall asleep in class."

Oh well, off to the next trip into dreamland, Geography, where we learn of places that either won't exist in a week, or shouldn't exist at all. Wheeeeee. While dropping off my books, I took my usual furtive glance around the zoo/prison...nothing too dangerous in sight (like one blond gorilla). Lots of bright plumage and petting at this zoo. (Guys and gals going making out like weasels in heat..wonder if that's why we have our name?)Oh well, on to learning about France. I wonder if Mrs. Carson would just let me be 'sick'? I mean, it's France!

She didn't go for it.

fourth class, my favorite, though one I don't share with too many of my friends...gym. Coach Howard was in charge of my hour of gym, and he usually just let me shoot hoops-
which might explain why my shot percentage is as good as it is (57%) in our games. It's not practice...really! Just shooting.

"Hey Myrc, up for a game of horse? Coach already said OK."

"Sure Bernie, just let me warm up a bit."

Bernard 'monty' McGowan, my basketball teams power forward; I didn't hate him, but didn't exactly like him either, he was a bit of a general hating jerk; Muslims, Arabs, mutants, you name it, he hated. apparently not the Irish though. Too bad there were no rules about being a jerk on the team, but I'd been 'ordered' to get along with him, so I would.

Several games of horse later (what can I say? It was fun!) with my awesome self winning all but once, showers were hit. Ralph walked in to to change; being a mutant he wasn't allowed to compete in sports, so he usually just picked something solo to do; Coach let him get away with it. Today his choice was to run around the track, searching for the elusive 4 minute mile. A decision I can agree with, if I could have gotten away with it...it was a nice day. But, as always and with a saddening regularity (I swear you could set your Ipod by it!)
the words started.

"Hey rolph, quick put a bag over that hair, my breakfast is coming up!" Bernard shouted, shoving Ralph into a shower stall door. Ralph just looked at the stall, saw it was empty, and went in to shower.

"What the hell man...do that again, and we will have a nice long private discussion. Get me?"

He looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "You like that creep?"

"I like tolerance, and you staying on the team. Make no mistake, I won't start any fight. But I will end one, every single time."

I really hoped sometimes, that most teens weren't like I'd been seeing since starting high school; it was beginning to test my faith in human nature. Nothing but judgmental hypercritical crap, with round pegs getting hammered into square holes till they fit...I really hope that it gets better out of high school, at least. I'd already fought several rumors regarding myself, not the least of which was that supposedly I was gay. (I wasn't of course, just a closet romantic.) The best way to fight rumors of course, is to ignore them when able, and bury fools who tried to tease you over it, hence my 'end all fights' creed.

"OK man, relax.It's chill."

He turned to Ralph, uttered a completely insincere apology and walked out, shooting me a glance on his way out the door. I waited till he left, shot Ralph a victory sign as I walked by. He in return gave me that stare again. Creepy. Speaking of gay, maybe he was...meh whatever, no business of mine, after all he can look, but not touch. If anyone only Pamela or Chrissy get this sexy package! Well, maybe Monica...but first lunchtime! Feeding time at the zoo.

First time I've actually been hungry for cafeteria food. I swear, this strange stuff that i could swear was growing, or moving, or worse...never looked so good. So grabbing my share of it, I quickly settled to my usual table. I was last to join as always; Ricky, Bill, Rich...pretty much the entire basketball team was here, with the baseball team right next to our table, and cheerleaders and assorted other popular types on the other side. Yes, I was one of the 'in crowd', whatever that meant.

"So mystery meat that looks kind of like chicken nuggets, green crap that might be the so called 'vegetable medley' and mashed potatoes. 5 bucks says I don't barf it up."

"I'd take that bet, but I feel you're suckering me."

"Oh I am, Rich. Stomach of cast iron! I only fear corrosion."

"Corro-wha?"

"Corrosion! Otherwise known as rust."

"you can eat that crap man? I think it moved."

"Unless you want to trade your lunch of the inevitable pbj Ricky, yes, I do intend to eat this crap. Pretty hungry today."

"So how was gym? Still pissed we aren't together for that, I have to deal with some upper class-geeks and Gordo, and the only thing they ever want to do is play dodge ball."

"Heh. It was OK, till Monty stepped out of line, where is that...oh. he's hiding over there."

"What did he do now?" Bill chimed in. He fancied himself our on court team leader (which was ironic, cause no one really listened to him on the court, or at least I didn't).

"Oh was just harassing Ralph, which is stupid, cause Ralph is pretty tough. Pissing him off is like asking Gordo to a dance or three." Ricky glared at me a second, then grinned.

"And I bet you just had to step in, right?"

"Yeah you know me, always looking for a reason with some people." He snickered.

Turning, I addressed the baseball team. "So, first game of the rest of our winning season is tomorrow! You guys up for it?"

Amidst assorted cheers, I caught sight of Gordon, leading the football team like so many baby ducks to their table by the window. I waved, and he scowled. Damn, still angry about this morning I guess. Catching his eye again, I shrugged. Hurray for non verbal communication! He nodded, message received. Eating, I let the conversation flow around me, not taking part. I finished just as the bell sounded (did I mention how much I hate that noise yet? If not, consider it mentioned). Almost done with the day, only two more hours in hell, then a bit after in purgatory. And this hour, was the hour I do most of my homework, so I don't have to later. Study Hall, win win for me.

The zookeeper for our study hall was Mr. Mullins, of the droning voice and boring numbers. This situation did make it easier to get a hold of him for math help, but seeing as how he couldn't explain anything at all, it was a double edged sword at best. Besides, only the truly evil teachers assigned homework on Fridays anyway. So his was the text I opened, ready for more polynomial action to work it's sleeping magic.

Except something was wrong. Very wrong. Instead of seeing the numbers crawl across the page in their usual slow march...they danced. They danced, spun, skipped, cavorted, flying across the page with reckless abandon, whispering their universal constant secrets to me. There was something graceful and timeless in their movements as they interacted with each other. I shook my head, that couldn't be right! Numbers couldn't be cool, or make perfect sense, I couldn't have...finished reading the textbook, cover to cover?

I looked again in disbelief. In 40 minutes I had done my homework for algebra, then proceeded to read my textbook...all of it. Like a daydream, I had only the fuzziest memory of what it said...but I did remember it, might even remember it all. And there, between pages 64 and 71, were several drops, almost a small pool, of drying blood soaking into the pages. As if I hadn't even felt the nose bleed and simply read on in a haze. Which come to think of it, I had.

What. The. Hell.

I was losing my mind somehow.

The bell ringing broke me from some very unpleasant thoughts. Last class then out, Then I'd get some help for this, and hopefully not get committed for being crazy or something. Of course, I forgot my English text, then had to run to get it before the bell rang. As I was running, I noticed the limp I'd had the day before was more pronounced now, I almost swayed as I moved! Weird, and still no pain. Yet...another...something. I don't know, had a thought and lost it...hate when that happens. Oh well, at least I'm not late for English. And my paper might get an A! An almost unprecedented event.

It didn't take long for me to gain some notice from Mrs. Holmes; mainly due to the fact that I actually participated in class. Macbeth is actually a fascinating character once you think about it; such an honorable man led to an ignoble end from his own ambition, woven into a trap of evil of his own making. She seemed impressed. Told me I was wrong, but seemed impressed all the same. But like a dream almost, it ended, and it was time to collect Ricky and head to the weight room for some lifting.

Good jocks, regardless of the sport they play, always lift a little. It adds strength and stamina, and done right, won't decrease speed or agility. The key is to work the right muscle groups. for basketball and baseball both, I needed arm strength, which was why I was focusing on my arms and shoulders today, with Ricky as my spotter. Then we would trade off. A light workout, twice a week, once for arms and shoulders and second for legs, had done wonders for me since I started this last summer. So back into the gym clothes and away we went. Of course, the weight room at school was also the domain of the football team.

The trick to surviving in a zoo, or a prison for that matter, is simple; never smell of fear.

"So ready to help me break 120 today?"

"Sure,' Ricky replied. "You ready to help me break 140 today?" I rolled my eyes.

"If you do that, you're going to need a different spotter. Should I call for Gordon?"

That earned a punch in the arm, and rightly so. It started as soon as we walked past the gym into the weight room.

"So, you two decided to show up here, huh? Sure are brave."

"Gordon, please give it a rest; we aren't here for you."

"Yeah Gordo, just go away and play with your knee pads or something." Oh hell, tell me he did not just say that.Judging by Gordon's red face, he had. Well, here we go...

"Flash! get out here, Coach Reynolds says scrimmage in 10!"

"OK Coach H, just leaving."

I felt cheated. I mean sure, this is why we picked just after school to use the weight room, but we had a good fight brewing!

"You two going to be OK in here? need any help?"

"No sir, we got it, thanks."

"OK, yell if you need anything. And Ricky...you shouldn't bait the bear, son."

"Yes coach H, sorry coach H."

Coach Howard looked at us both before sighing and leaving the room. I kind of understood how he felt, but at the same time, that was a good fight we had brewing! Soon the happy thoughts of a good scrap were sidelined by something else though. As Ricky was setting up the CD player (inspirational music is a MUST)I set the weight and experimented.

"Ricky, double check this for me." He looked at me oddly.

"It's right man, 110. Having trouble?"

"Wipe that smirk off your face, just wasn't set right I guess. And yes, I know I'm supposed to wait for you; since when has that ever stopped me, wise guy?"

"It's OK man, you can cuss, it's just us here."

"You know I don't like to do that," I set myself correctly on the bench. 'Though I might have to...did Gordo mess with the weights?"

"Move, let me try."

He lifted it easily, no strain on his face at all. What the crap was going on? I've been able to lift 110 for months with no real problem; I thought i was ready to try 120
today.

"I don't know man, if anything it feels light. Seems fine. Try again?"

"Darn right I'm trying again, showoff!"

I once again positioned myself under the bar, make absolutely sure I was set correctly and...nothing. I couldn't even budge it.

"Okay, I'm confused."

"Hold on a sec man, let me try something; just walk over there a minute; no peeking."

"Whatever." I went where directed and once I was sure he wasn't looking, checked my arm; did my biceps seem smaller...?

"OK man, try this."

I went back to the bar, positioned, and tried. This time with effort I was able to get the weights off the bench and press them, with effort. It was pretty obvious what he'd done.

"How light did you make it?"

"70 pounds."

"70...!' I put the bar back, and began some of the best curses in Gaelic that I knew 'what the hell is going on here? i was at 110 just last week!"

"You feel OK man?"

"Yeah that's the odd thing, I feel fine. No pain, no feeling of something torn, not feeling sick."

"Well I think it's safe to say something is wrong, and you should see a doctor pronto."

"Yeah, safe to say I can't spot you anymore; I'll see if the 'rents can get me in to see Dr. Halleck."

"Sure you'd rather not just go to Logan? I mean Dr. Halleck is just a small town G.P. when you get down to it, used as a sports doc or no."

"Who would know more about some type of sports related injury? Dr. Halleck or some fresh college grad?"

"Good point, So you're sure it's sports related?"

"No, but what else could it be? if it was a disease pretty sure I wouldn't be suffering alone. Ah screw it, just wear the gym clothes home; they need washed anyway."

"Dang you're full of good ideas today, why waste the time, right?"

"Right."

We split up with one block to go, the friendly banter almost driving the whole weight problem from my mind. Almost.

"Hi mom!"

"Hi Myrc, how was school?"

"Good except I think I'm sick or something. I couldn't lift today for some reason."

"Pulled muscles?"

"Maybe, but I kinda doubt it, not feeling any pain."

"Hmm.' She turned from dinner (a rather tasty looking lasagna)to look at me. 'Dr. Halleck?"

"Yes please."

"Consider it done. Monday is likely the earliest He will be able to work you in; you feel well enough to play tomorrow?"

"Quit with the googly eyes mom, I feel fine! this is more to figure out if my arms are going to fall off or something. And unless that happens tomorrow, I'm playing."

She looked at me a bit oddly but relented; "As long as you don't strain yourself fine...but any hints of injury and I'm pulling the plug."

"Done. need help with dinner?"

"No, you need to do your schoolwork. Go."

Thus banished, I retreated to my room, and brought out my books. Hmm, that was odd, my math homework was finished. Must have done it in study hall. Score! Meant the only thing I had to do was read a chapter in geography, all weekend. Some people double check their work; they are called wusses. Hmm, if I do it now, I won't have to look at a book all weekend!

Dinner was a slightly strained affair, I'm guessing mom told dad that I might be sick, and dad didn't want to jinx it; he didn't say anything, but spent his time staring at
me. by the time dinner was over I'd had enough.

"I'm fine dad, really."

"Homework mister, and after that take it easy. Don't leave the house, and call if you need me."

"OK mom, sheesh...not a baby anymore.' She pointed. 'Yeah yeah, I'm going, I'm going. Guess Ian gets dinner dishes again."

He glared death at me; I'd no doubt interrupted his halo 2 time or whatever.

Once back in my room and relatively safe from death glares, I realized something; I'd read the entire Geography chapter already. Shrugging, I figured it was therefore time to follow mom's last order and "take it easy". Unused to having time on my hands, I decided to simply search the web, looking at stupid stuff like cat pictures or silly videos.

The first thing I hit upon was some YouTube video with some weird robot...