Working out with Uncle Slappy.

It was too hot to work out outdoors (it's supposed to go up to 97-degrees this afternoon) so Uncle Slappy and I headed to our basement health club for our 45-minute workout. As usual Uncle Slappy was in rare form. Perhaps rarer form than usual.

There are two exercise bikes in the gym. I got on one and Uncle Slappy mounted the other. He doesn't do a whole lot of revolutions per minute, but I give the old man credit, he keeps pedaling for the full 45, wise-cracking the entire time.

About 12 minutes into our workout, a sylph-like young woman entered the club and climbed onto the elliptical trainer, which Uncle Slappy insists on calling the epileptical. She began to exercise but the machine made a harsh clanking sound. Something was clearly broken.

Uncle Slappy reassured her this way. "It must be because you're so heavy." She probably tipped the scale at 110 pounds. She smiled at Slappy, not knowing how else to react and shifted her activity to the adjacent elliptical.

After our workout was done, Slappy got off his bike and shuffled into the mens' locker-room where he weighed himself on the scale.

He came out a minute later and announced "167. If I were corned beef, your Aunt Sylvie would be a rich woman."