AO: THE FOUNDRY
QiC: Falcon9
Date: 10/31/2025
Title: Disc or Treat
Number of HIMs: 8
Clog, Dingle, Falcon9, LaSorta, Scratch, Short Circuit, Tin Cup, Zero Turn
Number of FNGs: 0
Name of FNGs:
WarmOrama:
Tunnels, Disclaimer, Imperial Walkers, Sprinklers Arm Circles, Seal Claps, Motivators from 8
HC Penalty 10 burpees
Tha Thang:
It was dark. It was cold. It was Halloween morning — the one day of the year when throwing strange flying objects through the gloom while grunting in unison actually looks normal.
Two teams assembled under flickering parking-lot lights, each man guarding his spot like a tombstone. The mission? Toss the Frisbee of Fate, summon an ab exercise, and pray it didn’t summon something worse.
Every throw carried suspense worthy of a horror movie. Sometimes the disc glided in like a ghost. Other times, it flew off into the shadows, never to be seen again… until someone yelled “PENALTY!” and the group was cursed with Burpees, Bonnie Blairs, Navy Seals, and other dark arts of suffering.
The sound of LBCs echoed through the gloom like the moans of the undead. Box Cutters sliced the air like vampire fangs. Flutter Kicks looked more like exorcisms than workouts. Sweat mixed with fear. Grown men screamed quietly inside.
By the end, the parking lot looked like a zombie battlefield — frisbees scattered, men crawling back to their coffins (cars), and one poor soul muttering “just one more round” like a haunted record.
No tricks. All treats… if your idea of a treat is core destruction and regret.
They came for a workout. They left as survivors. The only thing scarier than the penalty board was realizing… this all happens again next week. 👻
COT:
Prayers for Noodles and those not with us.