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A man walks into the local Nutrition Zone, he is wearing purple T. Michael Bodybuilding pants 3 sizes too small, white velcro Reeboks, a black wife beater with a cheap homemade "New Kids on the Block World Tour" iron on transfer that is slightly off center trying to give off a dark and sinister apperance. His face is clean shaven with numerous fresh razor cuts, many still ooozing blood, he appears to have made no effort to cover them up with small bits of toilet paper, instead, wearing them proudly like tribal war paints.
Said idiot then walks in to the store, revealing this pseudo-intimidating figure that rivals Dom DeLuise after a grueling 10 minute pilates workout. This guy, (who we shall refer to as MuscleMoron,) continues into the store. A frail old man who is working part time just to keep away from his annoying wife at home steps into his path and says, "Welcome to Nutrition Zone"
MuscleMoron turns abruptly to the old man and says, "Fuck off you ignorant twat, do you want some red, how about a G-bomb instead? Hahahaahah, I don’t pay for karma, I win it in some non existent bookie forum. My life is better than yours!! You greet people at a store where I send idle internet threats via red karma to people who make me upset!!! Be prepared to get blacked out. You are so OWNED old man….owned I say…OWNED!!. Consider yourself *BOMBED" when I get home.
Just like that, MuscleMoron walks smugly away thinking he just defeated the Chinese Army single handidly. He continues to the protein aisle, which 2 high school guys, probably freshman looking to get big for football, are looking at the latest supplements out by EAS.
MuscleMoron: Hey, hey you two faggots!
Kid1: Huh..wha? Who are you?
MuscleMoron: Like you don't fucking know who I am. Didn’t you just hear me belittle that old man up front? I’m MuscleMoron, the baddest red karma giver this side of the Gynocomastia Mountains bitch.
Kid2: Uhh, gee…that’s great Mr.
MuscleMoron: G-Bomb bitch!!!!! One coming your way!!!!!
Kid2: what do you want mister??
MuscleMoron: Are you going to even try to flame me, you pathetic Non-plats. Step up, or maybe one of you would like to Call Me Out?
Kid1: Look, we just want some protein. Leave us alone.
MuscleMoron: Protein? All you want is…..Protein? I have some protein right here for you bitch! It’s called a Protein Bomb! Ahahahahahahaaha. You pussies!!
Kid1 and 2; We’re out of here.
MuscleMoron: DO IT!! DO IT..Call me out. I’ll red you little fucks until I’m blue in the face. And if that doesn’t phase you, I’ll bring in my Freudian friend, “NeedsALobotomy” to wax your asses with his NASA like mind.
::::::::::::::At this point, the manager, who has seen the commotion comes over.::::::::::::::::
Manager: Hey, whats going on over here?
MuscleMoron: Who the fuck are you, another non plat bitch who wants some red from me? Ahahahahahaha!! I will bomb you, bomb you……….BOMB YOU!
Manager; What the hell are you talking about you moron? Are you goi…
MuscleMoron: Let me stop you right there, obviously you have nothing to say to me, you are beneath my contempt, just another in the countless non plat world vying for my attention.
Manager: Buddy, just get out before I call the cops.
MuscleMuscle: Cops? You call the cops on me? Ahahahaha, I’ll red them just like I’ll red you because I’m a spineless cunt whose only avenue to rebuttal is to RED EVERYONE!!
Manager: What reality are you living in, this is surreal.
MuscleMoron: I am kicking your fucking ass and all you can do is deflect and avoid. Listen, stop talking right now, you obviously have nothing of importance to say except your boring little speeches, you have officialy become too lame to reply to. Go ahead, call in a Mod.
Manager: Should I be insulted or happy?
::::Right now, MuscleMoron is rifling through his “How to Bomb People 101” book looking for a picture of Hiroshima after the bombing to use as a visual aide so he can pretend that Mr. Managerpants here is getting OWNED::::
MuscleMoron: See this pic? It’s a Bomb..You are now OWNED!! OWNED I SAY!!! TOTAL OWNAGE!!
:::::::::::::The manager now, turns away in disgust and walks away knowing that all the money he donated to Downs Syndrome research never made it through Customs:::::::::::::::::::::::
Said idiot then walks in to the store, revealing this pseudo-intimidating figure that rivals Dom DeLuise after a grueling 10 minute pilates workout. This guy, (who we shall refer to as MuscleMoron,) continues into the store. A frail old man who is working part time just to keep away from his annoying wife at home steps into his path and says, "Welcome to Nutrition Zone"
MuscleMoron turns abruptly to the old man and says, "Fuck off you ignorant twat, do you want some red, how about a G-bomb instead? Hahahaahah, I don’t pay for karma, I win it in some non existent bookie forum. My life is better than yours!! You greet people at a store where I send idle internet threats via red karma to people who make me upset!!! Be prepared to get blacked out. You are so OWNED old man….owned I say…OWNED!!. Consider yourself *BOMBED" when I get home.
Just like that, MuscleMoron walks smugly away thinking he just defeated the Chinese Army single handidly. He continues to the protein aisle, which 2 high school guys, probably freshman looking to get big for football, are looking at the latest supplements out by EAS.
MuscleMoron: Hey, hey you two faggots!
Kid1: Huh..wha? Who are you?
MuscleMoron: Like you don't fucking know who I am. Didn’t you just hear me belittle that old man up front? I’m MuscleMoron, the baddest red karma giver this side of the Gynocomastia Mountains bitch.
Kid2: Uhh, gee…that’s great Mr.
MuscleMoron: G-Bomb bitch!!!!! One coming your way!!!!!
Kid2: what do you want mister??
MuscleMoron: Are you going to even try to flame me, you pathetic Non-plats. Step up, or maybe one of you would like to Call Me Out?
Kid1: Look, we just want some protein. Leave us alone.
MuscleMoron: Protein? All you want is…..Protein? I have some protein right here for you bitch! It’s called a Protein Bomb! Ahahahahahahaaha. You pussies!!
Kid1 and 2; We’re out of here.
MuscleMoron: DO IT!! DO IT..Call me out. I’ll red you little fucks until I’m blue in the face. And if that doesn’t phase you, I’ll bring in my Freudian friend, “NeedsALobotomy” to wax your asses with his NASA like mind.
::::::::::::::At this point, the manager, who has seen the commotion comes over.::::::::::::::::
Manager: Hey, whats going on over here?
MuscleMoron: Who the fuck are you, another non plat bitch who wants some red from me? Ahahahahahaha!! I will bomb you, bomb you……….BOMB YOU!
Manager; What the hell are you talking about you moron? Are you goi…
MuscleMoron: Let me stop you right there, obviously you have nothing to say to me, you are beneath my contempt, just another in the countless non plat world vying for my attention.
Manager: Buddy, just get out before I call the cops.
MuscleMuscle: Cops? You call the cops on me? Ahahahaha, I’ll red them just like I’ll red you because I’m a spineless cunt whose only avenue to rebuttal is to RED EVERYONE!!
Manager: What reality are you living in, this is surreal.
MuscleMoron: I am kicking your fucking ass and all you can do is deflect and avoid. Listen, stop talking right now, you obviously have nothing of importance to say except your boring little speeches, you have officialy become too lame to reply to. Go ahead, call in a Mod.
Manager: Should I be insulted or happy?
::::Right now, MuscleMoron is rifling through his “How to Bomb People 101” book looking for a picture of Hiroshima after the bombing to use as a visual aide so he can pretend that Mr. Managerpants here is getting OWNED::::
MuscleMoron: See this pic? It’s a Bomb..You are now OWNED!! OWNED I SAY!!! TOTAL OWNAGE!!
:::::::::::::The manager now, turns away in disgust and walks away knowing that all the money he donated to Downs Syndrome research never made it through Customs:::::::::::::::::::::::
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