Carl vs. The Nazis Ch. 8 Get Buff

"Carl vs. the Nazis Ch. 7 Longevity" 
Getting in Shape

I met the Immortals in the Manor early the next morning. I learned another secret of longevity is having a strict regime. They usually slept ten or eleven hours, and had oatmeal with berries for breakfast. They then went to the chapel for Matins before exercising.
They wore ridiculous workout outfits, made from odds and ends tourists had left behind over the better part of the century: pointed ski caps, boxer shorts and flannel nightgowns. Robert wore a red union suit, orange leg warmers, red and black plaid cap with earflaps. All of them had bright-yellow high-top basketball shoes. “They were left behind by a basketball team in the seventies,” Parr explained.
They began with stretching. “At my age you can’t be too careful,” said Thomas.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“One hundred and twenty, come May,” he said. He grimaced and groaned a bit while pulling his leg behind his head. “I’m starting to get a little stiff.”
After an hour of stretching they did jumping jacks, toe-touches, pushups, sit ups, and then dance aerobics while they took turns playing on the piano. Then they stretched again and immediately went back to sleep for an hour, while I rummaged in the library.
They ate an early lunch of foul-smelling soup. I wrinkled my nose when I smelled it for the first time.
“What’s wrong sonny?” said Gwen. “Feeling left out? Want some?”
“What is it?”
“Cabbage, catfish, grubs and swamp moss,” she said proudly. “I caught the catfish myself! It’s a feast of antioxidants.”
“No thanks, I brought a sandwich.”
They ate slowly together and then began their afternoon chores, keeping their rooms and the kitchen clean and maintained.
Late afternoons were free time. The Immortals went hiking or running, practiced music, played chess, did Irish step dancing, wrote or read. Wallace tried to keep up with medical research by reading journals he pulled from the garbage cans of local doctors. The Immortals gathered in the evening for a dinner of cheese and course grained rolls that they washed down with water or tea. After they ate, they met in the parlor. Each night one of them would take a turn entertaining the others with a song, a story, a poem or dance. They returned to chapel for vespers, and then went to their own rooms.
On weekends and before and after school I joined them. Their regular routine was soothing, so the time seemed to go much faster. I was getting in great shape, too. I had always been scrawny, but I was starting to feel some muscles from daily exercise.
The kids at school started to notice too. At first I thought they were just making fun of me.
Monica was one girl I really wanted to impress. She was skinny with straight brown hair and freckles across her nose and under her brown eyes. What I really liked about Monica is she never cared what everyone else thought. She loved purple, so every day all her clothes, even the stuff she put in her hair, were purple. Her purse and her binder and pens and pencils were purple. Sometimes the teacher scolded her for printing her reports with purple ink. No one made fun of her because they knew she wouldn’t care.
At the start of the school year, she turned toward me and seemed to be staring. She smiled and waived. I smiled and waved back. Then she shook her head and pointed behind me. I realized she was saying hello to a friend and I had made a fool of myself. After that, I lost the courage to talk to her.
After I had been working out with the immortals a few months, Monica stayed late in class. I was always the last one out anyway.
She walked over to me.
The room suddenly felt stuffy. I was getting hot. Nervous. Frightened.
She looked directly into my eyes and smiled. I started to sweat. She smelled so good. She was so pretty. I wanted to run away, but my back was against the wall.
She placed a hand on my chest.
“Carl, you are looking good. Have you been working out?”
I felt my face burn with embarrassment. My mouth opened, no words came out. I turned away, mumbling. She giggled.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I thought as I rushed out of the room. “Blew it, blew it, blew it!”
At least I knew I had a chance. I began thinking about how I could recover and get Monica to like me.

"Carl vs. The Nazis Ch. 9 Invasion"