Rooftop Yoga

Grum stood erect, stretching his muscular arms upwards, morning sun warming the spiderweb of scars across his barrel chest. Across his broad back.

He turned his Meaty palms inward. Relaxed his thick jaw. Closed his deep-set eyes.

Inhale.

Damp air whistling past missing teeth, filling his lungs.

Cool breeze whisking the towel tied around his waist, the jungle of hair on his legs.

And…

Exhale.

The feel of asphalt shingles searing his calloused feet.

And some may say being perched atop his boss Eli’s suburban rental property, holding a well-formed Submissive Fellatio pose was no place for a level-99 barbarian.

Yet, Grum was there. Aware. In the present.

Mindful.

From Submissive Fellatio, Grum raised a heel and slid one foot back, gnarly toenails scraping shingles, balancing himself carefully across the roof ridge. Legs spread, he bent his other knee and sank down into Dangling Fruits pose.

Inhale

In his mind’s eye, Grum visualized his old realm. He felt himself floating above the rolling hills and lush grasses, yellow and white wildflowers cast about the river of green. Past the umber mesas looming above his home, Algothia. Towards the scorched lands, towards his nemesis, Albatross.

Through the Vile Fortress’s massive arching diorite doors.

And once face to face with Albatross, the wizard that banished Grum to this world, the one responsible for all of the doubt, and resentment, anger and futility, responsible for Grum going from Level-99 to working a nine to five, going from raiding kingdoms to raiding fridges, from velvet thrones to porcelain ones, Grum glared into his eyes and whispered “I forgive you.”

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Exhale

Grum used to rule kingdoms. Now he placed his hands upon the hot shingles, pushed his ass upward—from Dangling Fruits into Willing Canine.

Below him, car tires crunched on the gravel driveway. The low thrum of music pulsing upward.

Grum peeled open one eye, looking past his own legs. Gabe sat behind the wheel of his black Honda, his arm out the driver side window, fingers tapping a beat on the driver side door. Grum managed an awkward upside-down wave.

Gabe leaned his head out of the window. “Come on, need to leave in ten. No time to sun your asshole.”

“My asshole is fine,”Grum said. “It is my Yoga form that requires work.” He clumsily stood from Willing Canine, and rolled his neck around. “The performers in the tape I watched are very flexible. High natural agility scores. And not encumbered by clothing.”

“Tape? You watching Eli’s old VHS tapes?”

Grum nodded.

Gabe shut off the car and stepped out. He barely stood higher than his car, beige button-up perfectly tailored across his thin shoulders. “Well, I say lose the towel. Just let it all hang out.” Gabe outstretched his skinny arms and wiggled his hips. “Like a majestic bird, doing its little mating dance.”

“I have been warned about the nudity.”

“Why not bring the fur kilt out of retirement?”

“Too cumbersome for Decadent Swallow pose.”

“Oh, naturally.” Gabe placed a hand across his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun. “But, why on the roof?”

Grum motioned up the heavens, beard glistening with morning dew. “To elevate myself.”

“Elevate yourself…” Gabe moved his hand to his chin, pondering. “Is Grum, the Literal, finally learning wordplay?”

“It is not a joke.” Grum sat on the edge of the roof, letting his bare feet dangle over the twenty foot between him and Gabe. “Derek Baglowski says, ‘to be high is righteous.’“

“Who now?”

“Derek Baglowski. Yoga is not the only one of Eli’s tapes I have watched. There are many. Derek Bagloski is a wise man. A soothsayer. Perhaps even a mid-level Diviner.”

“One of Eli’s tapes? Was Derek wearing a lot of leather, holding one of those whip things?” Gabe whipped the air with his phone, then glanced at the screen. “But really, come on,” he said, nodding towards the house. “Get your big ass down here and get dressed. We gotta go.”

Grum pushed himself off the two story house. His feet thudded into the driveway, spraying up a cloud of gravel. Gabe shielded himself from the shrapnel.

“I just have a few more quests,” Grum said, lifting his feet, picking stones out of the dense skin there.

“Man, we open today. You know I hate rushing around when we open. That’s why I’m early! You’re supposed be ready when I get here, not… on the roof… Centering your chakra. Opening your brown eye, or whatever.”

“It is a few small tasks. Daily quests that are incomplete,” Grum said, ducking under the doorframe. “It will only take a few moments.”

Gabe followed, a rash of huffs, and grunts, and complaining. “And yesterday it was… and two days ago, you weren’t ready because… And remember, remember last week when YOU said….” Lots of noise, really, for this early in the morning.

“It will be fine,” Grum said.

“Fine!” Gabe snapped, setting his jaw, his attempts to be intimidating, admirable, but adorable. “Ten minutes. Then the car leaves with or without you.”

“You can help,” Grum said, pulling the towel from his waist and draping it over his shoulders, completely exposing himself.

Gabe held Grum eyes, refusing to look anywhere except up at the barbarian’s face.

Grum smiled, plainly. “Derek Baglowski says, ‘you finish faster with an extra hand.’”