It was a wary Wednesday morning when she entered with the throbbing heat.
Sashaying in stark sleeveless midnight over skull-and-crossbone culottes.
Flipping the knot in her ponytail and mounting a stationary bike.
Surveying the room and speed cycling with no scythe.
Finishing her set and vanishing in silence.
Leaving without unsuspecting souls.
***
By Mark Johnson
June 13, 2019
Mark Johnson Stories 
That’s an amusing image. It could strike terror in the hearts of reluctant gym-goers.
Do people still remember what culottes are?
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Good question, Tom. Somehow, I think the sight of culottes would terrify most anyone.
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