As the bus ground to a halt, the driver opened the doors and on stepped a man almost as broad as he was tall. Deeply tanned, with long flowing hair sun-bleached to platinum, he sported a blonde goatee and a hoop earring. The shoulders of his pale cream linen suit strained across his huge shoulders, as did his pale blue striped shirt in trying to cover his vast, overhanging belly. The bus sagged slightly as he got on, then bounced as he mounted the steps. When he turned to the boys, he seemed to fill the front of the bus.
"Welcome!" he said in a jovial tone, "to the biggest little beach resort in Texas! I’m Sam O. Girth, manager of the resort. Here, you boys will relax, get stronger, and gain a few pounds, on your way to being big football stars - the way nature intended you to be!" He patted his overflowing belly and continued. "The food is great, if I do say so myself, and as you can see out your windows, our weightroom is on the beach! You boys will be staying in "D" wing - there`’s a couple of other high school teams already checked in there, and it’s just down the beach from here. The breakfast buffet’s finishing up in half an hour, the lunch buffet starts at 11:30, and supper’s at 5,” he paused, “or 6, or 7, or all three if you can eat that much! If anybody wants to armwrestle,” - he flexed one mighty bicep, which appeared to stretch the sleeve of his linen jacket nearly to bursting - “I’ll be in the Rec room east of the TV room at 8 pm.”
Having delivered this speech to a now dazed and nearly speechless busload, he turned and left, the bus bouncing gently as he did.
A quiet voice came from the back. “Is he for real, coach?”
“He sure is!” replies the coach. “We were at school together, before I became a famous high school football coach and he became a famous