Murray Platt took his first step at nine months of age. By the time he was fourteen months old, he was walking well enough that he figured he had the whole walking thing down. Just put one foot in front of the other…easy peasy. It turns out, Murray had it all wrong and it took him sixty-four years to wake up to reality.
It was a magazine article that set him straight. Upon reading it, it was very clear to Murray that he needed things in order to walk around the neighbourhood, and even just to go from the couch to the fridge for another bottle of beer. For starters, he required the right footwear. By the right footwear, of course, that meant sneakers that cost a minimum of one hundred dollars. It’s only by the grace of God that Murray still had all of his toes after decades of wearing cheap shoes.
Murray also had to have the proper clothing before he took another step and no, his old sweatpants did not fall into that category. I know, it’s as if the man was raised in a barn, right? Obviously this would require someone carrying him around the mall until he found the perfect outfit that both accentuated his positive physical features while at the same time hid his ugly bits.
Most of all, Murray had to buy a pedometer. How else would he know when he reached the recommended ten thousand steps per day benchmark? Anything less and he might end up like his father – dead at the age of ninety from natural causes, or like his mother – dead at the age of seventy-eight from a lion attack. If Murray had any brains, he’d get one that also measured the calories he had burned. Better still, one that he could use with his smartphone. Anyone who is anyone does that. Murray just had to get with the times – and get a smartphone.
Never again would Murray put his health at risk by simply putting one foot in front of the other. Only fools did that, and Murray Platt was no longer a fool. He was a walking aficionado.