Happy Himbo Monday, Part Two: Pink Drink Protocol
Happy Himbo Wells discovered the juice bar at 1:17 p.m. on Monday.
This was impressive because Coach had only told him to go for a walk after the hypnosis session.
Wells had translated that into: walk somewhere with protein.
The place was called Nectar of the Golden Gods Juices and Smoothies, which Wells read three times before smiling at the menu like it had personally complimented his shoulders.
He stood at the counter in shiny metallic hot pink compression tights, black-and-hot-pink trainers, and a cropped hot pink tank top that said HAPPY HIMBO across his chest.
The cashier stared.
Wells smiled.
“Pink Drink Smoothie,” he said proudly. “Extra protein. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” the cashier repeated, because there was no arguing with that outfit.
Wells accepted the smoothie with both hands like it was sacred.
Pink cup.
Pink straw.
Pink outfit.
Brain quiet.
Body happy.
Life simple.
Then he turned around and nearly collided with another man built like sunshine had learned gym culture.
Zane blinked.
Wells blinked.
Zane looked at the smoothie.
Then the tights.
Then the cropped tank.
Then Wells’ face.
“Oh my god,” Zane said. “Bro.”
Wells smiled brighter. “Bro.”
Zane pointed at him with total reverence. “You look incredible.”
Wells looked down at himself, genuinely pleased. “Coach made my brain quiet.”
“That explains the vibe.”
“Does it?”
“Honestly? Yeah.”
Zane circled him once, studying the outfit like a himbo stylist reviewing sacred art.
“Hot pink tights. Cropped tank. Big chest energy. Happy Himbo branding. Very strong. Very correct.”
Wells nodded seriously. “Thank you. The outfit happened.”
“The outfit happened?”
“Coach does not know how.”
Zane gasped. “Mystery fashion.”
“Exactly.”
Zane looked at Wells again, eyes narrowing with dramatic purpose.
“But something is missing.”
Wells looked down at the smoothie. “More protein?”
“No. Well, maybe. But no.”
“My thoughts?”
“Those are gone, babe.”
“Nice.”
Zane pointed at Wells’ head.
“The hair.”
Wells touched his dark hair. “Hair is still hair.”
“Wrong. Hair is currently regular. Outfit is hot pink. Smoothie is hot pink. Aura is hot pink. Hair must join the group project.”
Wells processed this with the calm seriousness of a man whose brain had been put on airplane mode for wellness reasons.
Then he smiled.
“Bro. You’re right.”
Zane beamed. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“My condo.”
“Why?”
“Because I have dye.”
Wells paused.
Then lifted his smoothie.
“Can I bring this?”
“Obviously. It’s part of the look now.”
Twenty minutes later, Wells was sitting on a stool in Zane’s bathroom with a towel around his shoulders, sipping the Pink Drink Smoothie through a straw while Zane snapped on gloves like a man about to commit beauty crimes for the greater good.
“Okay,” Zane said. “Top only?”
Wells nodded. “Coach still needs to recognize me.”
Zane tilted his head.
“Bro, Coach is going to recognize you from space.”
“That’s useful.”
“Very.”
Zane worked the dye through the top of Wells’ hair with careful fingers, turning the dark strands brighter and brighter until the hot pink matched the outfit almost too perfectly.
Wells watched in the mirror, smiling the whole time.
No stress.
No overthinking.
No buzzing behind his eyes.
Just pink.
Protein.
And Zane saying, “Hold still, gorgeous, himbo science is happening.”
When it was done, Wells stood in front of the mirror.
Hot pink top.
Hot pink tights.
Hot pink hair.
Happy Himbo printed across his chest like a medical diagnosis and a lifestyle choice.
Zane clapped once.
“Perfect.”
Wells turned his head side to side.
Then flexed.
Then grinned.
“Bro. I look so happy.”
“You are happy.”
“I am.”
“And hot pink.”
“Also that.”
Zane handed him the smoothie.
“Now you’re complete.”
Wells took a long sip.
Then his eyes lit up.
“Coach is gonna stare.”
“Yes.”
“Alton is gonna have comments.”
“So many.”
“Trey is gonna yell.”
“Immediately.”
“The bros are gonna love it.”
Zane smiled. “And you?”
Wells looked at himself again.
The pink hair.
The pink outfit.
The huge dumb happy smile that did not feel forced anymore.
“I love it.”
Zane nodded like this was the correct answer.
Wells headed for the door.
“Thanks, bro.”
“Anytime, Happy Himbo.”
Wells paused on the street and flexed.
Then smiled even bigger.
“Yeah. That’s me.”
And when Wells walked back out into Monday afternoon, hot pink hair glowing, brain quiet, body happy, smoothie mission complete, the week officially became everyone else’s problem.
Coach had wanted Wells relaxed.
Zane had made him visible from orbit.
Happy Himbo Monday had upgraded.
Ready to upgrade your Monday? Join the Golden Army, grab the Pink Drink, trust the himbo protocol, and let the Gold turn down the noise while the vibes go hot pink: Contact our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-125
Featuring: @zanethehimbo
Mentions: @alton-gold77, @hero21us
