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satanic goatslayer
New member
Well, I managed, through various means, to accumulate enough money to obtain a gym membership for a year or so. I've never used a gym before, I have my own olympic set and stones/sleds etc at home, so I really never had the need to go to one. Heavy squats are a little difficult to do with no rack, for me anyway, so I thought a gym would be good for squat days.
So I decided to give the "local" gym a test-drive to see if I liked the facilities.
One of the first things I noticed as I pulled up to the gym was that the sign indicated that this was no gym, oh no, this was a "fitness center" I enjoy fitness, so I thought this would be no hindrance to my workouts.
I walked in the door and noticed that I had to walk through a gauntlet of stairmasters and bikes to get to the squat rack. Sweaty, obese ditch pigs were plentiful, and the stench was making it difficult to breathe. Sprinting down the lane, I saw a short man with a polo shirt step out in front of me. I couldn't tell what he said because just as he finished, I ran right over top of him, making sure to grind my shoe into his temple.
I made my way to the squat rack, and cleared the cobwebs off of the pins so I could adjust them to my height. As I was doing so, Marco Polo (as I like to call him) strolled over and informed me that there was to be no running in the "fitness center"
I asked him why the people on the treadmills were allowed to run, but I wasn't. It seemed a bit discriminatory to me, and being the leader of the crusade against injustice, I had to speak up.
"That's different" he squeaked, almost inaudibly.
I turned away to begin my warmup set, but I had to remove the pansy pad first, when I felt a tap on my back.
"Hey man, can I work in with you?"
I turned to get a look at this person, and it turned out to be a gangly teenager wearing jeans and a Fubu tanktop.
I asked him if he was going to use it to do squats.
"No, reverse curls" he informed me.
"Well then, no. I will, however, snap your arms off, thereby eliminating the need to do reverse curls, if you would like" I politely offered.
The boneman turned away and left. I thought to myself "Cheese and Biscuits! At this pace I'll never get anything done"
I warmed up, and then loaded the bar for my first work set. I began the set, trying for 8 reps.
1
2
3
4
5
6
"Your form is all wrong"
Failure
"YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS, BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T, I'M GOING TO SCALP YOU AND EAT YOUR BRAINS WITH CHOPSTICKS YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!"
Fucking Marco Polo standing behind me, criticizing my form, when he couldn't have even weighed more than 140 lbs.
"There's no need to be rude" the little arrogant cocksucker snidely told me.
"There's no need for you to live, either" I replied, shortly before I grabbed a 10 lb plate and smashed him across the side of the face with it. He fell to the ground, unconscious and twitching. Brittle bones, I suppose.
Through my peripheral vision, I could see another skinny birdlike man hopping my way. He told me that he was calling the cops, so as he dialed, I strangled him with the telephone cord.
Now people were starting to scream and leave. I hate drawing attention to myself, so I decided to slaughter all who remained in the gym. That way, there would be no eye-witnesses. Well, that's just rationalizing it, I just wanted to kill them.
I ran behind the fatty by the cooler and stabbed her in the lower back with the screwdriver that was sitting by the power supply. She screamed, so I stabbed her at a machine gun pace in the throat, watching as the blood decorated the room. She gurgled, hissed, and slumped to the floor in a disgusting heap on the floor. Better off as fertilizer than anything else, Flipper.
The old man with the headband at the hammer strength incline bench machine begged for mercy, so I let him go. He looked as if he was going to croak soon anyways, no need to make his wife a widow prematurely.
One person left. Fubu boy.
"Don't hurt me, I already called my boys and they're coming to fuck you up man!" he shakingly informed me.
Just then, the CD player in the gym switched CD's and one of my favorite songs to exercise to came on.
I've just closed my eyes again
Climbed aboard the dream weaver train
Driver take away my worries of today
And leave tomorrow behind
Time to die, Skee-Lo. I faked him out with a left, then swung a 30 lb dumbbell into his stomach, sending him reeling to the ground.
Dream Weaver I believe you can get me through the night
I impaled his sternum with the screwdriver and gave it a slight twist.
Dream Weaver I believe we can reach the morning light
I grabbed his straps and tied them together. Then I wrapped them around his head, over his mouth, and tied the other ends together.
He was mumbling something, but I didn't care to listen, so I grabbed those broompoles that people use for torso twists and brought it over. I pushed it through the straps and began to twist it slowly, tightening the straps with every revolution. A cracking sound emitted from his jaw/cheekbone area, and he hunched over. Blood was dripping down from his mouth, so I took it that he was dead.
Goodness gracious, I thought. Can't even get a decent workout at a public gym, let alone a fitness center. I went to my car and grabbed Gurdeep's scimitar which I used to sever the legs off of Marco Polo and Fubu Boy. I put them in a garbage bag for later consumption and headed back to the homestead to finish my workout.
I guess the lesson I learned was never go to a fitness center. That or forgiveness. One of the two.
So I decided to give the "local" gym a test-drive to see if I liked the facilities.
One of the first things I noticed as I pulled up to the gym was that the sign indicated that this was no gym, oh no, this was a "fitness center" I enjoy fitness, so I thought this would be no hindrance to my workouts.
I walked in the door and noticed that I had to walk through a gauntlet of stairmasters and bikes to get to the squat rack. Sweaty, obese ditch pigs were plentiful, and the stench was making it difficult to breathe. Sprinting down the lane, I saw a short man with a polo shirt step out in front of me. I couldn't tell what he said because just as he finished, I ran right over top of him, making sure to grind my shoe into his temple.
I made my way to the squat rack, and cleared the cobwebs off of the pins so I could adjust them to my height. As I was doing so, Marco Polo (as I like to call him) strolled over and informed me that there was to be no running in the "fitness center"
I asked him why the people on the treadmills were allowed to run, but I wasn't. It seemed a bit discriminatory to me, and being the leader of the crusade against injustice, I had to speak up.
"That's different" he squeaked, almost inaudibly.
I turned away to begin my warmup set, but I had to remove the pansy pad first, when I felt a tap on my back.
"Hey man, can I work in with you?"
I turned to get a look at this person, and it turned out to be a gangly teenager wearing jeans and a Fubu tanktop.
I asked him if he was going to use it to do squats.
"No, reverse curls" he informed me.
"Well then, no. I will, however, snap your arms off, thereby eliminating the need to do reverse curls, if you would like" I politely offered.
The boneman turned away and left. I thought to myself "Cheese and Biscuits! At this pace I'll never get anything done"
I warmed up, and then loaded the bar for my first work set. I began the set, trying for 8 reps.
1
2
3
4
5
6
"Your form is all wrong"
Failure
"YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS, BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T, I'M GOING TO SCALP YOU AND EAT YOUR BRAINS WITH CHOPSTICKS YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!"
Fucking Marco Polo standing behind me, criticizing my form, when he couldn't have even weighed more than 140 lbs.
"There's no need to be rude" the little arrogant cocksucker snidely told me.
"There's no need for you to live, either" I replied, shortly before I grabbed a 10 lb plate and smashed him across the side of the face with it. He fell to the ground, unconscious and twitching. Brittle bones, I suppose.
Through my peripheral vision, I could see another skinny birdlike man hopping my way. He told me that he was calling the cops, so as he dialed, I strangled him with the telephone cord.
Now people were starting to scream and leave. I hate drawing attention to myself, so I decided to slaughter all who remained in the gym. That way, there would be no eye-witnesses. Well, that's just rationalizing it, I just wanted to kill them.
I ran behind the fatty by the cooler and stabbed her in the lower back with the screwdriver that was sitting by the power supply. She screamed, so I stabbed her at a machine gun pace in the throat, watching as the blood decorated the room. She gurgled, hissed, and slumped to the floor in a disgusting heap on the floor. Better off as fertilizer than anything else, Flipper.
The old man with the headband at the hammer strength incline bench machine begged for mercy, so I let him go. He looked as if he was going to croak soon anyways, no need to make his wife a widow prematurely.
One person left. Fubu boy.
"Don't hurt me, I already called my boys and they're coming to fuck you up man!" he shakingly informed me.
Just then, the CD player in the gym switched CD's and one of my favorite songs to exercise to came on.
I've just closed my eyes again
Climbed aboard the dream weaver train
Driver take away my worries of today
And leave tomorrow behind
Time to die, Skee-Lo. I faked him out with a left, then swung a 30 lb dumbbell into his stomach, sending him reeling to the ground.
Dream Weaver I believe you can get me through the night
I impaled his sternum with the screwdriver and gave it a slight twist.
Dream Weaver I believe we can reach the morning light
I grabbed his straps and tied them together. Then I wrapped them around his head, over his mouth, and tied the other ends together.
He was mumbling something, but I didn't care to listen, so I grabbed those broompoles that people use for torso twists and brought it over. I pushed it through the straps and began to twist it slowly, tightening the straps with every revolution. A cracking sound emitted from his jaw/cheekbone area, and he hunched over. Blood was dripping down from his mouth, so I took it that he was dead.
Goodness gracious, I thought. Can't even get a decent workout at a public gym, let alone a fitness center. I went to my car and grabbed Gurdeep's scimitar which I used to sever the legs off of Marco Polo and Fubu Boy. I put them in a garbage bag for later consumption and headed back to the homestead to finish my workout.
I guess the lesson I learned was never go to a fitness center. That or forgiveness. One of the two.
