Saga of the Weight Bench.
Once upon a time, there was a man who lost the bar to his weights. God knows where it went; probably it disappeared during his recent move across town. Possibly the bar was abducted by aliens, who unsuccessfully attempted to get ransom from the new residents of the apartment, who spoke Spainish and were unable to give them (the aliens) a forwarding address. Also, his weight bench was damaged, although the damage was suffered prior to the move.
In the interests of his continuing health and mental stability, the man went on a quest.
Hither and yon he searched. The not-so-soft side of Sears had a sale on. Woo Hoo! However, the weight benches on display in the store were the only weight benches available in the store, or any in town. Kmart had crap. The man’s child wept, and his wife gnash-ed her teeth. But Lo! There was a Gart’s Superstore, shining in the darkness, and they indeed did have a good supply of weight benches.
This did not solve the matter of the bar.
For no-one sells a bar without the damn weights, even if you don’t want the damn weights. Except for maybe those one guys on the east side of town, eh, what are they called anyway?
The man drove home with the weight bench, prepared to delay until another day. And then a miracle occurred! His wife, much-beloved but not normally the most observant of wenches, noticed an excercise equipment store but a few blocks away from their home. A quick phone-call confirmed that they did, indeed, sell bars solo, without the damn weights.
And then he realised he had no clamps.
And he said, “I’m sick of driving around today.”
And so the faithful wife said, “Hell, I was going to go to Target anyway. I’ll look around.” She wandered around Target, viewing the many post-holiday sale items with glee, but did not find any weight clamps. But she did buy a tree base for a buck fifty, so it wasn’t a total waste.
Then she drove up to Gart Sports, looking for weight clamps. She asked for assistance and was assisted. Voila! Two sizes of weight clamps! She tried to remember the size of the weight bar previously used, and selected the clamps accordingly.
They were the wrong size!
And Lo! She was wroth! But managed to keep her mouth shut. Damn not tell me two sizes bars…mrrph mrrph…wrong size…driving around in the dark…mrrph mrrph…”Thanks for trying”…mrrph mrrph…
And that night, she went to bed, and dreamed that the cops had pulled her over for running stop signs. She got up, went to work, and returned home.
“Guess what?” sayethed her spouse.
“What?” sayethed the wife.
“There were clamps in the box with the bench,” he sayethed. “Now all I need is a four-inch bolt. The one they packaged in the box wasn’t long enough…”
And truly she was a good wife, for she did not scream.