Aqua Di Gio After Shave

Well I am 14 and go into writing what do you think?
The story of how I got into "The Business" is quite an interesting story. I was 17 this morning Thursday. Debts at 4:00 am, I went to my morning jog in Central Park, it was about five miles from my home in lower Manhattan, also known as Little Italy. The exact time is forever etched in my head, because it was a milestone for me. My five miles have been completed in twenty-nine minutes thirty-seven seconds, a personal record for me. After my cool, I got to my old family brick town house on Mulberry and Spring Street. I headed straight to the basement to the gym. It was ABS, triceps and calves day.
I ran up the stairs to the second floor of the house. I made clothes for the day: a purple Polo together with a pair of black Dickie. I walked in the hallway of the bathroom and sat on the sink. I needed a second to relax my nerves and think. I turned the knob of the shower hot. I looked in the mirror and examined my brown eyes. I took a long hard look on my face complexion dark, and thought about how he was always nice to be Tan.
I took off my shirt soaked with sweat and my muscles looked in the mirror. I flexed my arms enormous. There were cuts dominant in my biceps and triceps. I flexed my abs and pecs, they looked great. I had a gut, but my abs showed the outline of a pack of four. My chest muscles were as hard as rocks. The mirror was starting to steam, so I took off the rest of my clothes and climbed into the shower.
While in the shower, I thought about football. My last year was coming, and it would be a big year. The starting left tackle position was mine to play for my high school. This achievement was a big problem, because I was a legacy to the school. My father played Varsity, until a senior, when he blew his right knee. I decided to stop thinking about football, and finished washing my hair and face. I'm out of the shower, crossed the bathroom and grabbed a towel from the cupboard under the sink. After drying myself, I wrapped the towel around my waist, and walked down the hallway to my room.
I decided not to wear the purple and black polo Dickie, but rather to bring a white shirt with black polo Under Armour shorts. After dressing, I went into the bathroom and used my towel to wipe the condensation on the mirror. I shaved, put on deodorant, and Aqua Di Gio splashed cologne. Bounding down the stairs early years, the smell of biscuits mom kindly accepted my stomach.
Mom was in the kitchen, no doubt, baking cookies and juice. She was wearing a pearly white to dark hair and skin exeriliant Tan. She concentrated on anyone. I slowed my pace down the stairs, as if to squeeze her, but when I hit the last step it creaked loudly. Mom turned around and said, "Good Morning, Salvatore. I have two questions for you: Did you sleep well? Do biscuits and gravy sound good for breakfast?"
I replied: "Yes, well, yes. I think you should at least know that I'll be hungry after my race and training. Seriously. Look at me, I'm 6'2 "and weighs 250 pounds." I bow my 22 "pythons and said:" Look at me. I'm stupid. Want a piece of that, Mom? "Let's Go!"
She laughed and said: "Yes, my son, but for now you'll have breakfast and eat your biscuits and gravy, like a good boy. Do you really think you could drag on me? Remember, I'm from Sicily, so I can hear you from a mile away. "
I returned his smile, and said: "Ha ha, very funny. I can smell the aroma of your cookies three miles. I'm starving to death, when is it going to be done? "
She took the cookies from the oven, and said: "Now."
Dad entered the room and said, "Hey Sal-L.