My coworkers have long known I’m into fitness, and I’ve noticed them giving me resentful looks when I come in to work and eat healthy. Finally, my manager calls me into his office. “Kent, you’re making the others uncomfortable. You’re too creative, you don’t eat doughnuts like the rest of us, and you don’t binge-watch stuff in your off time. Sorry it had to be like this.” I’m like, “Wait, what?” Suddenly office-workers pile onto me. One of them rolls up my arm, and my manager approaches me with a syringe labeled, “DAD-BOD.” He injects it into me and I scream. My hair’s falls out, my muscle tone withers, I feel the wearying press of PTA meetings stealing my sanity….NO. Open my eReader. Magic flash. Another syringe appears in my left hand. This one is labeled, “THE MEATIES.” I jam it into my thigh, and my body ripples as it grows a solid sheath of muscle. I crash out the window and begin galloping down the side of a high-rise on all fours, my knuckles leaving spider-web cracks in the building facade.