A Confession To The Future Murder Of My Personal Trainer


You know how on Law and Order, when Detective Ice-T is trying to get the bad guy to confess, and he says, “Just tell us what you did, and we’ll get the DA to be lenient with you”? Well, Detective T, get the lawyers on the phone, because I’m going for double leniency. I wanna confess, not to something I did, but to something I’m definitely going to do. You see, I’m going to kill my personal trainer Tony, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. So call Mariska Hargitay, get together with whoever the lawyers are now, and see what kinda deal you guys can come up with. Because Tony is going down. The following is my confession, and the reasons I had to commit this crime. Thank you, and I’m sorry. Sort of.


I, Brian Donovan, will sometime in the future kill my personal trainer Tony whose last name I don’t know. I understand it is wrong to take a man’s life, but what if that man happens to be a super super big douche — could the murder be justified? I know I shouldn’t be speaking ill of the dead, but I haven’t killed Tony yet, so he’s technically still alive, and as I said, he’s a super super big douche, so I think I should get a pass.

Here are the reasons while I feel the homicide is unavoidable.

1) Tony lies about the reps I have left.

You know that personal trainer thing where they get you all excited for the agony of the push ups or sit ups or breathing to be over, and yell out enthusiastically, “Only 10 more reps! Come on! Give it all you’ve got!” Well, Tony does that, and then starts counting down, except when you get to zero and triumphantly collapse, he yells “OK, now just give me five more! Come on, extra credit!” That’s the sort of thing they should do to war criminals. “You only have one year left of solitary confinement. Oh, no wait, you can give me 5 more, can’t ya?!” You specifically asked for all I got, Tony, and I gave it to you. There is no more. Do you not understand the notion of zero sum mathematics? Also, extra credit doesn’t apply to fitness. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean. For this, you must die.

2) Tony tells personal trainer “jokes.”

There’s never really a good time to tell a bad joke. But I’ll tell you when the worst time is: when an out-of-shape client is on the verge of cardiac arrest. Like when I’m in minute three of “becoming a board” (holding the plank position at the beginning of a push up), don’t say “hey, don’t get bored now! Are you getting bored?!”, and then laugh like what you just said was actually funny. Because then I’m going to murder you. Also, making me wave to you while I’m doing jumping jacks
isn’t a funny wrinkle that makes working out fun, it’s an image I can hold in my mind while I’m punching you repeatedly in the groin. And then shooting you.

3) Tony says “we” are going to get you in shape.

We aren’t going to do anything, Tony. I am gonna do 10,000 crunches and you are going to sit there sipping water. Because I guess saying vaguely encouraging things every five minutes has a way of making a guy really thirsty. And about that….

4) Tony drinks water while I work out.

You know how badly I want that water, right? Because I’m working out, and sweating like a rhino, and you only let me have a water break every fifteen minutes. So obviously you understand that it’s killing me to see you sipping away at that straw, right Tony? Or actually, I should say it’s killing you, because, well, I’m going to murder you for it. Why don’t you just eat a Boston Creme donut in front of me? Or maybe knock back a Jack and Coke, and celebrate my tenth pull-up by sparking a Camel Light, eh? I’m going to suffocate you with a pillow.

5) Tony tells me stories about him hooking up.

I know that I am a man and that Tony is a man, and that a gym is a vaguely masculine setting. But that doesn’t make it cool for Tony to tell me stories about “tagging strange.” We’re not friends. I’m paying you to be here, not very much, but still — money is changing hands. So keep the uncomfortable personal discussion of Amanda’s “cherry-like boobs” to yourself. Are cherry-like boobs even a good thing? I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it, now, or when I’m squat jumping jacks.

So, Ice-T, officers, lawyers, disgraced family members, these are the reasons I felt Tony had to die. I hope that after reading them you understand why it was inevitable, and perhaps that will be reflected in your sentencing. If not, no biggie, I don’t regret my future actions for a second. I just hope that however I do it, it’s totally awesome, and involves Tony having to run a long distance and then do a bunch of one-handed push ups. To my dear Thought Catalog readers I apologize for ending our relationship so soon.  We’ve just started to get to know each other, and you seem like swell folks, but they don’t allow blogging where I’m going, so Bon Voyage.


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