It was the fifteenth of September and Larry sat in front of his window staring out at his Monday morning view as though it was his favorite sitcom. With nothing but his birthday suit on… well, minus the epidermis of course, Larry ate his usual Monday morning breakfast which consisted of his two sunny-side up eggs, a piece of raspberry jam toast, a nice hazelnut-flavored coffee, and the accompanied glass of orange juice. Larry was living the life.

And suddenly, when things didn't seem as though they could get better, Larry noticed out of the corner of his eye something spectacular. No, it wasn't old man Smithers riding his solar-powered lawn mower. It was a woman… jogging… with quite a nice gluteus maximus. It was time to say hello.

Larry lifted his eyes from the window glass and pushed himself away from the table. From there, he walked himself to the door, whistling some of Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline," which seemed utterly ironic for the moment being since he would soon learn her name was, indeed, Caroline.

He danced out of his door with a sort of whimsical step and stopped at his mailbox. Mail lady's phone number… tax reimbursement… you've just won a million dollar cruise line… Larry perused all his white letters and hot pink postage love notes and came to the conclusion that nothing special was in the mail today.

He threw the mail behind him and smiled brightly. On any other face, with the exception of Larry's, of course, one would look exceedingly strange since it would appear that they were either straining every facial muscle they had, such as the orbicular oris, or they were, indeed, a child sex offender. Perhaps that is why Michael Jackson had so many plastic surgeries on his nose… children were smart nowadays. If someone smiled funny, they would run and cry for help. At least, after these surgeries, he would have a fifty-fifty chance. What kind of kid doesn't like a good ol' magic trick?

Larry laughed as he thought of this but then remembered the jogging woman and became vigilant for her vivacious red hair and her, oh, so nice gluteus maximus. He started running, fearing that he had lost her during his train of thought involving Michael Jackson and his detachable nose. Larry was jogging in circles. He had, indeed, lost her. In fact, he had jogged so much that his jastrocnemus was burning.

He stopped, catching a breath, which turned out to be exceedingly hard for both his thyrohyroid and omohyroid were parched from a lack of what those Mexicans call "agua." He looked around him, his orbicularis oculi tensing and relaxing, peering over the crowd of children in front of a lemonade stand. He gasped and giggled with delight and then waltzed on up to the front of the line and ordered a lemonade. Twenty-five cents for a nice, cold, summer refreshment. But wait, oh no! Larry had forgotten his wallet… and his pants. And so, Larry was now standing stark naked in front of a group full of school children, and not to make matters worse, but it just so happened that this 'lemonade stand' was in fact a lemonade stand to raise money for the St. Mary Catherine's Catholic school's quest for new pew bibles which was conveniently located across the street. Oh, and look, there was St. Mary Catherine herself, staring in delight at his… well let's just say, she wasn't looking at his psoas major or his pectineus.

Oh, joy, Larry thought as he scrambled away, attempting to cover any loose organs that might be explained best through Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'."

He exasperated after he was a good three or ten blocks away… Larry had lost count when he realized that a few of the school girls were following him with rulers.

Oh, but behold, there was Lady gluteus maximus again, jogging around the corner. Larry sprinted again, this time his rectus femoris burning from lack of sufficient man-food. He needed meat. Perhaps when he returned home, he'd make some bacon. But for now, Larry kept his eyes and his brain on the prize. Sadly by doing so he couldn't control his vastus medialis or his vastus laterialis, and so, he ran head-first into the jogger.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to run into you…," he said as he helped the spirited woman up.

"Oh my, how strong you are!" she exasperated, "Those are quite a pair of palmaris longus you've got there."

"Oh, well, thank you," he blushed, although one could never tell being his risorus was pure crimson anyway.

She brushed off her shoulder and smiled in pain.

"Oh dear, it seems as though I've hurt my sternocleidomastoid… or my trapezius, take your pick. They both hurt as much as…"

"Grating your forehead with a potato peel?"

She laughed nervously, "I was actually going to say as ripping your calcaneal."

He laughed lightly, realizing that he had, indeed, made a fool of himself.

"My name's Larry," he responded awkwardly.

"Caroline," she said, continuing her walk down the off-white, chipped sidewalk.

"…So, Caroline, what do you do?" he asked, sincerely.

He was not about to let Caroline get away just moments after he had completely embarrassed himself. And although, this made him vulnerable to all sorts of things, he retorted in his subconscious that he honestly couldn't care less.

"I work as an officer against sexual harassment in the workplace."

Oh no…, Larry thought. Everything seems to be going perfect, just perfect.

He walked with her a ways until he grasped that he would either have to let her be and walk back to his city-suburban home alone or he would, indeed, have to ask her out to a coffee in which he would be rejected or accepted… as an awkward friend.

Larry decided to take his chances and decided that he'd let his money do the talking… but sadly, as said previously, Larry had forgotten his wallet… and his pants. Thankfully, Caroline had not noticed yet… or at least she didn't care for she too wasn't wearing any clothes. And that was when it struck upon Larry that perhaps he belonged in a nudist cult. It wasn't quite so bad, not wearing clothes. Perhaps he would look into it… but sadly, Larry was getting ahead of himself.

"So, you want a coffee?" Larry, sorta-kinda blurted out to Caroline who in return looked at him puzzingly.

"I've got no money…"

"Me either," he replied.

She tilted her head as though a curious dog, "How do you expect to get coffee then, Larry?"

He laughed, "Obviously, you must dazzle them with your… pectoralis major."

"Okay!" Caroline said excitedly, ready for any type of mild amusement.

It was approximately three blocks south of where Caroline and Larry were walking which so happened to be North. So of course, with Larry's luck, it took them two hours to finally realize that they were walking in the wrong direction. After that, Caroline just decided to take a shortcut across Old Man Smithers' back lawn… which left Larry with quite the wrong impression because Old Man Smithers was yelling some rather obscene things at him… all including the world, "nudist." He had even thrown a fork that he was using to eat his TV dinner at Larry, which hit him precisely in the plantaris/gastrocnemis region of his leg. This of course hurt… so Larry laid for a good five minutes on Old Man's Smithers' newly cut lawn which upset Old Man Smithers even more.

After this disastrous event, they finally made their way to the café shop, much exasperated and out of breath. They entered the quaint little shop, hitting their flexor digitorum longus with the glass door along the way.

Caroline leaned across the counter, whispering something inaudible. Larry only heard little bits, something like, "How do you like them deltoids?" The café guy who appeared to be around eighteen laughed a little and then held a blank expression when she was done.

He paused, as if thinking the right words to say and then finally came up with, "I'm gay."

Caroline gaped and pouted as she suffered from rejection, she then slipped behind Larry murmuring in hushed tones what had just happened. Larry decided that he would have to take action.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm not gay, so could you just give us two coffees?"

Caroline then smacked him in the back of the head, "That wasn't part of the plan, you idiot!"

Larry turned around, "I'm not going to pretend to be gay to get a free coffee," he explained.

The café guy looked at Larry as though he was crazy, "Uhm, yeah. You do realize your serratus interior is showing right? If you're not wearing a shirt, I can't serve you…"

"But I'm not wearing any pants either!" Larry exclaimed.

The café guy just shrugged his shoulders, "We don't have a rule on not wearing pants… just shirts."

"You listen up here, buddy! I want my coffee and I want it now!" Caroline shouted furiously.

The café people gasped at Caroline's somewhat rather crude statement and whispered scandalous things while the café guy tried to keep his cool.

"Well, now that you have the entire café's attention, why don't you just leave? I'm not giving you coffees… especially since you don't have any money."

Larry then punched the poor boy for Larry was extremely furious. Normally, he was able to get off with a free coffee, but then again, he always had a female server… and he had his pants on too.

He then shouted, "How do you like them biceps brachii?" and left the store.

He grunted again as he hit his flexor digitorum longus against the door panel… again. And after they had left the shop, Caroline started shouted left and right.

"What a jerk? How dare he not give us a free coffee…This is an outrage!"

"Want to try Dunkin Donuts?" Larry suggested, rubbing his brachialis as he did so.

You see, Larry doesn't fight often, and when he does he normally strains something and today it seemed as though his brachialis and his triceps brachii needed healing.

"That is a splendid idea… Oh, Larry, did you hurt something? Is it your hypothenar muscle? I knew punching him wasn't the best idea…," she said while examining his hands.

"Nah, I'm fine and it's my upper arm and shoulder actually…"

She then pushed him onto a near bench and massaged his scalenes.


He laughed, "Much… but I still want my coffee."

"Me too."

And with that the pair set off to find a free coffee from Dunkin Donuts which also turned out to be a complete failure. Not that the server was gay it was just they had already heard of the infamous nude free-coffee wanters… so they weren't even allowed in.

"You know what? I have coffee at my house. You just want to get coffee there?"

Caroline paused for a second and then shook her head up and down.

"Yes, please. I really, really need a coffee. I can barely feel my soleus muscle moving anymore."

"Alrighty then," Larry said, doing his best Ace Ventura interpretation.

And so the nude and skinless pair walked off into the oblivion of sidewalks and park benches. And as they did so, Larry just thought, It's time to go exercise those rectus abdominis muscles again. And the funny thing was, he knew the exact way he wanted to do it… and whom he wanted to do it with…