Imaginings of How It Might Go If I Entered a GNC Store

Me:  Uh, hi.

GNC Guy: Hello.  Is this your first time here?

Me:  Uh huh.

GNC Guy:  Well, welcome.  I can see you’re not as muscular as you could be.

Me:  Yes sir.

GNC Guy:  Are you ready to go ahead and get the fuck out of here before I beat you up?  Beat you really badly?

Me:  Yes, thank you.

~

GNC Guy:  Can I help you find anything today, big guy?

Me:  Do you really think I’m a big guy?

GNC Guy:  Haha, oh my no!  That’s funny.  Hey!  Hey Derrick!  This guy here thinks he’s big!  Real big!  No, this guy here, behind the rack of pills!  I know, right?

~

GNC Guy:  Hey there, chief.  What can I do for you?

Me:  So GNC stands for General Nutrition Center?

GNC Guy: You got it.

Me:  Cool.  So have you guys ever thought about having a mascot?  Like an army guy named General Nutrition?

GNC Guy:

Me:  Like Sergeant Slaughter?  But for nutrition?  And a much higher rank?

GNC Guy: 

Me:  Okay.  Well, this is the part where I usually say something like “Ain’t I a stinker?” and then run straight through one of the glass doors there.  But thanks for being a sport.

~

GNC Guy:  I see you’ve been eyeing those pills there.

Me:  Yeah.  I guess so.  I mean…I have to confess something here.  I don’t actually know what all this stuff is.

GNC Guy:  [leans in]  Haha, dude, me neither!  Here’s Myocytoplex.  Here’s Myocardiocyanoplexin B.  I just tell people that one is for lean, endurance muscle and the other one is for big, power muscles.

Me:  Ohhhh.  Okay.  Do any of these come in a fucking gigantic jar that I can put on my counter because it doesn’t even fit in a cabinet?  Because I have a girl coming over later.

GNC Guy:  Buddy, I got just the thing.