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Nobby is super strong. . he can squat 900lbs for reps!!
Who screams in effort when they train?
- Thread starter Victorian guy
- Start date
JollyRogers
New member
ROFL ...I almost thought the first story was real till the whop ass ordeal outside the gym.
R
revexrevex
Guest
Helping HANDICAPPED bros at the gym!
Brothers,
I am thinking of getting into coaching for the disabled, both those with physical and mental disabilities- maybe something along the lines of the Special Olympics. A recent experience at the gym has, indeed, made me realize that NO MATTER what disability a person has, it should not deter them from pursuing the Iron Warrior lifestyle!
I was training back with my chauffeur and personal assistant, Nobby. We were doing weighted chins- the extra weight being a pencil neck we collared, frog-marched over to the chinning bar, and had him hang onto my legs as I repped out 10 chins, screaming with effort the whole time.
After my set, I noticed a number of handicapped folk training- some sort of group-home outing, no doubt. Nobby and I watched as one of the group-home workers tried to show a lad in a wheelchair how to do lat pulldowns, and had him using only 3 plates of the stack!
"This won't do", I sneered, and Nobby and I headed over to the woman and the handicapped fellow. "You think just because this man is wheelchair bound that he is a weakling?" I asked her. As she began to answer, Nobby smacked her across the face as I screamed "SILENCE!!" so loud the equipment rattled.
"Alright, brother- time for some REAL work!" I cried, put wrist straps on the man, put the pin to the bottom of the stack, added a 45 to it, pulled the pulldown-bar to his chest and while I held it there Nobby wrapped the straps around the bar. "BUSINESS- AS USUAL- NOW SQUEEZE....FEEL THE NEGATIVES!!" I roared, then let go of the bar. It snapped up, taking the man with it, his wrist straps unwound, and he flew over the pulldown machine and landed on the floor behind it, then began going into convulsions and foaming at the mouth- he was having a seizure!
I looked at Nobby. He looked at me. I put my hands deep into my pockets and, looking as innocent as possible, sauntered off, whistling a piece by Handel. Nobby lumbered off in the other direction, stopping only to smack a punk in the face for wearing sunglasses in the gym.
Later on, we headed over to the squat rack to do shrugs- but someone was using it! In this case, we decided not to toss them aside as a truly inspirational scene took place before our eyes.
There was a lad of about 20ish, suffering from Down's Syndrome, doing squats with 315- he was really putting superhuman effort into his sets! Once he was done, I approached him, offering my support.
"Bloody fucking well done!" I cried. "What is your name?" I asked.
"Mawvin" he replied. Marvin was a happy looking fellow, and behind a pair of glasses with lenses 2 inches thick I could detect a warrior spirit. "Marvin, look about" I said. "You are the strongest of your group...I do hope YOU are taking bloody fucking charge of this lot!" I cried. "See that man over there- the one in the wheelchair, drinking Gatorade...why not go over and claim that bloody Gatorade for yourself!"
"Roight. Show 'em who's bloody fookin boss- 'URT THE BAHSTAHDS!" Nobby snarled.
Marvin's eyes lit up, and he burst forth, screaming "AAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!!!", in a frenzy not seen since Japanese 'banzai' charges of WWII, and charged straight at the man in the wheelchair, clotheslining him out of his chair. He snatched the gatorade bottle, and, his maniacal banzai attack not quite over, he made a screaming dash at a retarded fellow who was sitting on a bench analyzing a bright shiny object he had picked up off the floor. Marvin clotheslined him off the bench, and he went flying arse-over tit onto the floor. Then Marvin began kicking him in the face! At that moment, several group home workers and gym members tackled Marvin, and as he screamed obscenities and struggled, one of the workers shoved a needle into his thigh and injected him with what was, no doubt, a powerful sedative. In 10 seconds, he stopped moving and the paramedics were called.
"I have seen enough. These poor fellows are being denied their DIGNITY!" I screamed. We headed out of the gym...and while heading out a man followed us into the parking lot. "Hi...look, I'm the manager of the group home...and I know you guys are only trying to help, but-" at that point he put his hand on Nobby's shoulder "...we prefer to handle them ourselves!" he said warmly.
He had touched Nobby. The end was near, so very, very near.
I stepped back. The skies darkened, birds flew away, and Nobby stood there like stone, as the ramifications of what had just happened dawned on him.
Screaming "FOOKIN POOFTAH!!!" Nobby delivered a kick, which would have sent a soccer ball into orbit, right into his testicles, lifting him up a few feet into the air. While he was hanging in mid-air, Nobby lashed him across the face with his chain, and he came to the ground like a pile of dirty laundry, and lay quivering, in the fetal position with his hands between his legs, on the parking lot. Just then, Marvin, the down-syndrome afflicted lad, having somehow fought off the effects of the tranquilizer, came staggering out the door and began beating the man on the ground with a 25 pound plate!
We jumped into the Rolls and roared off, laughing, as concerned members came out of the gym and began beating the living shit out of Marvin as police sirens wailed. No doubt, the authorities had been called.
Nobby and I are checking into coaching opportunities at the Special Olympics.
Any bros have experience in that department?
Brothers,
I am thinking of getting into coaching for the disabled, both those with physical and mental disabilities- maybe something along the lines of the Special Olympics. A recent experience at the gym has, indeed, made me realize that NO MATTER what disability a person has, it should not deter them from pursuing the Iron Warrior lifestyle!
I was training back with my chauffeur and personal assistant, Nobby. We were doing weighted chins- the extra weight being a pencil neck we collared, frog-marched over to the chinning bar, and had him hang onto my legs as I repped out 10 chins, screaming with effort the whole time.
After my set, I noticed a number of handicapped folk training- some sort of group-home outing, no doubt. Nobby and I watched as one of the group-home workers tried to show a lad in a wheelchair how to do lat pulldowns, and had him using only 3 plates of the stack!
"This won't do", I sneered, and Nobby and I headed over to the woman and the handicapped fellow. "You think just because this man is wheelchair bound that he is a weakling?" I asked her. As she began to answer, Nobby smacked her across the face as I screamed "SILENCE!!" so loud the equipment rattled.
"Alright, brother- time for some REAL work!" I cried, put wrist straps on the man, put the pin to the bottom of the stack, added a 45 to it, pulled the pulldown-bar to his chest and while I held it there Nobby wrapped the straps around the bar. "BUSINESS- AS USUAL- NOW SQUEEZE....FEEL THE NEGATIVES!!" I roared, then let go of the bar. It snapped up, taking the man with it, his wrist straps unwound, and he flew over the pulldown machine and landed on the floor behind it, then began going into convulsions and foaming at the mouth- he was having a seizure!
I looked at Nobby. He looked at me. I put my hands deep into my pockets and, looking as innocent as possible, sauntered off, whistling a piece by Handel. Nobby lumbered off in the other direction, stopping only to smack a punk in the face for wearing sunglasses in the gym.
Later on, we headed over to the squat rack to do shrugs- but someone was using it! In this case, we decided not to toss them aside as a truly inspirational scene took place before our eyes.
There was a lad of about 20ish, suffering from Down's Syndrome, doing squats with 315- he was really putting superhuman effort into his sets! Once he was done, I approached him, offering my support.
"Bloody fucking well done!" I cried. "What is your name?" I asked.
"Mawvin" he replied. Marvin was a happy looking fellow, and behind a pair of glasses with lenses 2 inches thick I could detect a warrior spirit. "Marvin, look about" I said. "You are the strongest of your group...I do hope YOU are taking bloody fucking charge of this lot!" I cried. "See that man over there- the one in the wheelchair, drinking Gatorade...why not go over and claim that bloody Gatorade for yourself!"
"Roight. Show 'em who's bloody fookin boss- 'URT THE BAHSTAHDS!" Nobby snarled.
Marvin's eyes lit up, and he burst forth, screaming "AAAARRRRRGGGGHHH!!!", in a frenzy not seen since Japanese 'banzai' charges of WWII, and charged straight at the man in the wheelchair, clotheslining him out of his chair. He snatched the gatorade bottle, and, his maniacal banzai attack not quite over, he made a screaming dash at a retarded fellow who was sitting on a bench analyzing a bright shiny object he had picked up off the floor. Marvin clotheslined him off the bench, and he went flying arse-over tit onto the floor. Then Marvin began kicking him in the face! At that moment, several group home workers and gym members tackled Marvin, and as he screamed obscenities and struggled, one of the workers shoved a needle into his thigh and injected him with what was, no doubt, a powerful sedative. In 10 seconds, he stopped moving and the paramedics were called.
"I have seen enough. These poor fellows are being denied their DIGNITY!" I screamed. We headed out of the gym...and while heading out a man followed us into the parking lot. "Hi...look, I'm the manager of the group home...and I know you guys are only trying to help, but-" at that point he put his hand on Nobby's shoulder "...we prefer to handle them ourselves!" he said warmly.
He had touched Nobby. The end was near, so very, very near.
I stepped back. The skies darkened, birds flew away, and Nobby stood there like stone, as the ramifications of what had just happened dawned on him.
Screaming "FOOKIN POOFTAH!!!" Nobby delivered a kick, which would have sent a soccer ball into orbit, right into his testicles, lifting him up a few feet into the air. While he was hanging in mid-air, Nobby lashed him across the face with his chain, and he came to the ground like a pile of dirty laundry, and lay quivering, in the fetal position with his hands between his legs, on the parking lot. Just then, Marvin, the down-syndrome afflicted lad, having somehow fought off the effects of the tranquilizer, came staggering out the door and began beating the man on the ground with a 25 pound plate!
We jumped into the Rolls and roared off, laughing, as concerned members came out of the gym and began beating the living shit out of Marvin as police sirens wailed. No doubt, the authorities had been called.
Nobby and I are checking into coaching opportunities at the Special Olympics.
Any bros have experience in that department?
R
revexrevex
Guest
Victorian guy
Novice
Retarded guy on gear goes BESERK!!!!
Brothers,
Sad news. A good friend of mine is, shall we say, 'out of the picture'.
Marvin, a down-syndrome afflicted weight-lifter at my gym, went absolutley bonkers. I think it had something to do with the gear he was on, courtesy of myself.
The following is a true story.
The other day, I was in the gym with Nobby doing 1 rep max effort good-mornings with 315 pounds, when Marvin walked up to us. "Finished dat bodybuilding pills. Need more" he babbled. "Marvin, by GOD, I gave you 100 anadrol tabs only a couple of weeks ago!" I exclaimed. Was it not enough that, every other day, I walked up and jabbed a needle into him and gave him a 400mg injection of test?! Marvin had been eating the anadrol like candy. His swollen, mongoloid features were even more pronounced, and he did indeed look a shade yellow! I get anadrol very cheap, so I merely opened my gymbag and tossed him a bottle of 100 tabs. "Bon appetit!" I cried.
5 minutes later, as I was spotting Nobby while he did a set of good-mornings with an incredible 405 pounds, I heard the nasal, effiminate voice of a lad who worked in the gym as a counterboy and 'trainer'. I believe a degree in kinesiology made him a bodybuilding expert. He was berating Marvin. Marvin had left his bottle of anadrol on the floor while he used a bench, and this trainer had picked up the bottle of anadrol I had given Marvin and examined it.
"ARE these yours? Oxymetholone...that is an anabolic steroid. How did you get these! SHAME on you, Marvin!" he screeched. "PLEASE LEAVE...we don't tolerate steroid-taking cheaters here!" he screamed. Nobby and I sat back and watched.
"Marvin has to solve this dilemma on his own" I said. "It's important for his self-esteem. Just because the man is retarded doesn't mean he can't handle himself."
Well, the personal trainer stood, arms folded, in front of Marvin. "Sorry Marvin..those are the rules. You have to go. I'm calling your group home manager about this!" he declared.
Marvin's jaw dropped. He began shaking. "I can't lift no more?" he asked. "Not here you can't" the counterboy snapped.
"It aint fair...it ain't fair....IT'S NOT FAIR, IT ISN'T!!!" Marvin roared. He began screaming and ran over to the coke machine, and in a feat of strength unmatched since Samson pushed apart the pillars of the Philistines' temple, Marvin lifted the coke can machine, walked over to the front window of the gym, and hurled it through!! It fell 2 stories and hit the sidewalk with a thunder that shook the building. Marvin was like some modern-day Quasimodo, a simple man pushed to the edge and forced to unleash his mongoloid strength on those who would destroy him!
A few people ran over to subdue Marvin, but Nobby and I intercepted them. I double-clotheslined two fellows, and Nobby beat the rest of them back with his bike chain. The cowardly counterboy fled the gym. A couple of big men grabbed Marvin, but he tossed them aside like rag dolls! He ran around the gym, screaming, dragging pieces of equipment over to the front window and hurling them through- the leg press machine, lat pulldown machine, benches, dumbells, plates and anything else he could find. As police cars pulled up, Nobby and I headed out. "AWROIGHT MAHVIN!" Nobby roared as we left. "FOOKIN BASTAHDS!" he screamed at the police.
We watched as a riot squad pulled up, fired tear gas cannisters into the gym through what was left of the front window, charged in the door and up the stairs. A few riot police were tossed out the window, and finally Marvin was subdued after a viscous clubbing that would have killed an elephant. He was taken out in a straightjacket and put in the back of an armoured police van, screaming obscenities and struggling the whole time.
Just then, Nobby spotted the counterboy who started all this- he was watching everything, a satisfied smile on his face. He saw Nobby lumbering over to him, and ran and jumped into his car. He started it up, turned to give us the finger, but there I was- holding up the back of his car! He floored it, but the rear wheels spun in the air. Then Nobby's fist came crashing throught the driver's side window, and dragged his 140 pound arse out and tossed him on the sidewalk. Nobby and I put the boots to him, and Nobby gave him a nasty chain-beating right out of the film 'A Clockwork Orange'. He was barely alive when we took off down an alleyway, laughing.
Bros...do you think it might have been the large anadrol doses that caused Marvin to go insane? Or could it have simply been that extra chromosone?
Anyone?
Novice
Retarded guy on gear goes BESERK!!!!
Brothers,
Sad news. A good friend of mine is, shall we say, 'out of the picture'.
Marvin, a down-syndrome afflicted weight-lifter at my gym, went absolutley bonkers. I think it had something to do with the gear he was on, courtesy of myself.
The following is a true story.
The other day, I was in the gym with Nobby doing 1 rep max effort good-mornings with 315 pounds, when Marvin walked up to us. "Finished dat bodybuilding pills. Need more" he babbled. "Marvin, by GOD, I gave you 100 anadrol tabs only a couple of weeks ago!" I exclaimed. Was it not enough that, every other day, I walked up and jabbed a needle into him and gave him a 400mg injection of test?! Marvin had been eating the anadrol like candy. His swollen, mongoloid features were even more pronounced, and he did indeed look a shade yellow! I get anadrol very cheap, so I merely opened my gymbag and tossed him a bottle of 100 tabs. "Bon appetit!" I cried.
5 minutes later, as I was spotting Nobby while he did a set of good-mornings with an incredible 405 pounds, I heard the nasal, effiminate voice of a lad who worked in the gym as a counterboy and 'trainer'. I believe a degree in kinesiology made him a bodybuilding expert. He was berating Marvin. Marvin had left his bottle of anadrol on the floor while he used a bench, and this trainer had picked up the bottle of anadrol I had given Marvin and examined it.
"ARE these yours? Oxymetholone...that is an anabolic steroid. How did you get these! SHAME on you, Marvin!" he screeched. "PLEASE LEAVE...we don't tolerate steroid-taking cheaters here!" he screamed. Nobby and I sat back and watched.
"Marvin has to solve this dilemma on his own" I said. "It's important for his self-esteem. Just because the man is retarded doesn't mean he can't handle himself."
Well, the personal trainer stood, arms folded, in front of Marvin. "Sorry Marvin..those are the rules. You have to go. I'm calling your group home manager about this!" he declared.
Marvin's jaw dropped. He began shaking. "I can't lift no more?" he asked. "Not here you can't" the counterboy snapped.
"It aint fair...it ain't fair....IT'S NOT FAIR, IT ISN'T!!!" Marvin roared. He began screaming and ran over to the coke machine, and in a feat of strength unmatched since Samson pushed apart the pillars of the Philistines' temple, Marvin lifted the coke can machine, walked over to the front window of the gym, and hurled it through!! It fell 2 stories and hit the sidewalk with a thunder that shook the building. Marvin was like some modern-day Quasimodo, a simple man pushed to the edge and forced to unleash his mongoloid strength on those who would destroy him!
A few people ran over to subdue Marvin, but Nobby and I intercepted them. I double-clotheslined two fellows, and Nobby beat the rest of them back with his bike chain. The cowardly counterboy fled the gym. A couple of big men grabbed Marvin, but he tossed them aside like rag dolls! He ran around the gym, screaming, dragging pieces of equipment over to the front window and hurling them through- the leg press machine, lat pulldown machine, benches, dumbells, plates and anything else he could find. As police cars pulled up, Nobby and I headed out. "AWROIGHT MAHVIN!" Nobby roared as we left. "FOOKIN BASTAHDS!" he screamed at the police.
We watched as a riot squad pulled up, fired tear gas cannisters into the gym through what was left of the front window, charged in the door and up the stairs. A few riot police were tossed out the window, and finally Marvin was subdued after a viscous clubbing that would have killed an elephant. He was taken out in a straightjacket and put in the back of an armoured police van, screaming obscenities and struggling the whole time.
Just then, Nobby spotted the counterboy who started all this- he was watching everything, a satisfied smile on his face. He saw Nobby lumbering over to him, and ran and jumped into his car. He started it up, turned to give us the finger, but there I was- holding up the back of his car! He floored it, but the rear wheels spun in the air. Then Nobby's fist came crashing throught the driver's side window, and dragged his 140 pound arse out and tossed him on the sidewalk. Nobby and I put the boots to him, and Nobby gave him a nasty chain-beating right out of the film 'A Clockwork Orange'. He was barely alive when we took off down an alleyway, laughing.
Bros...do you think it might have been the large anadrol doses that caused Marvin to go insane? Or could it have simply been that extra chromosone?
Anyone?
R
revexrevex
Guest
PRO'S seminar ends in DISASTER!!!!!!
Brothers,
A well known pro won't be at any upcoming shows. And he is most displeased, and blames, of all people, me!
Last week, a known pro bodybuilder who I won't name, contacted me and let me know he wanted to hold a bodybuilding seminar, charging people the equivalent of 25 American dollars each to hear his training, nutrition, and supplement advice.
Things didn't go very well...and now he is quite angry with me.
He had asked for my help in organizing the promotion of his seminar, and I told him that I would be DELIGHTED to take care of that end of things. I hired graphic artists, and personally oversaw the designing of advertising posters that featured the pro's picture, and "TAKE BLOODY FUCKING CHARGE!" in large, red, blood-dripping letters across the top. The smaller script read:
"Get fucking huge- scare your mates, your teachers, and your parents! Squash bastard enemies like beetles! Learn how to eat, train, inject, how to smuggle and/or import steroids... come to the show, and get a bottle of anadrol for free, to get you started!"
I thought it was smashing, and so did Nobby! I had hundreds of posters made, and Nobby and I posted them in places that we KNEW would draw whomever saw them to the seminar- we went around elementary schools, middle schools, high schools, homes for disturbed youth, the local snooker hall, local playgrounds...a truly heroic effort, I must say. We put the posters up everywhere, and personally encouraged people to attend. Tickets sold quickly.
I also managed to rent a community centre hall for very cheap- mind you, it was in the east end of London, amongst the slums!
The big day came-
The pro showed up to the community centre and, on entering the large auditorium, stood gaping at the crowd. A sea of mostly boys, aged 8-21, met his eyes. Many of them had shaved heads, bomber jackets, wore combat boots, t-shirts emblazoned with swastikas or skulls, and had swastikas tattooed on their foreheads. A jolly group of little rascals!
He then saw for the first time the poster I had made. He said "For fuck's sakes, mate, what the FUCK is this? Bloody kids! What...free fucking anadrol...I could get in serious shit...!!!"
A look of true distress, anger, and who knows what else came over his face.
No sooner had he spoken than 10 police officers arrived, and escorted him out in handcuffs- he began sobbing! When they found the 3 crates (1000 bottles) of anadrol I had generously supplied, and asked whose it was, I simply pointed my thumb in the direction of the pro bodybuilder as he was being led away. "It's his!" I quipped. "Well, I'll be off then" I said innocently, and Nobby and I left- but not before Nobby grabbed the mic and yelled "Now, fuck off you lot, you aint gettin no anadrol tonight, show's over- no bloody refunds, bahstahds! G'wan...FOOK OFF!!" he screamed, then threw the mic and the podium at the angry crowd of disturbed youth!
Chairs soon became airborne, the sound of windows smashing filled the air, and screaming erupted...a true riot was underway.
Luckily, we made it out of the community centre, and drove out of the parking lot just as the ensuing riot, which saw the burning down of the community center, 3 people killed and scores injured, got underway.
We both laughed heartily as Nobby floored the Rolls Royce and we sped away from the scene of calamity!
So, brothers, looks like a certain pro bbder is out of the game for the next several years....
Brothers,
A well known pro won't be at any upcoming shows. And he is most displeased, and blames, of all people, me!
Last week, a known pro bodybuilder who I won't name, contacted me and let me know he wanted to hold a bodybuilding seminar, charging people the equivalent of 25 American dollars each to hear his training, nutrition, and supplement advice.
Things didn't go very well...and now he is quite angry with me.
He had asked for my help in organizing the promotion of his seminar, and I told him that I would be DELIGHTED to take care of that end of things. I hired graphic artists, and personally oversaw the designing of advertising posters that featured the pro's picture, and "TAKE BLOODY FUCKING CHARGE!" in large, red, blood-dripping letters across the top. The smaller script read:
"Get fucking huge- scare your mates, your teachers, and your parents! Squash bastard enemies like beetles! Learn how to eat, train, inject, how to smuggle and/or import steroids... come to the show, and get a bottle of anadrol for free, to get you started!"
I thought it was smashing, and so did Nobby! I had hundreds of posters made, and Nobby and I posted them in places that we KNEW would draw whomever saw them to the seminar- we went around elementary schools, middle schools, high schools, homes for disturbed youth, the local snooker hall, local playgrounds...a truly heroic effort, I must say. We put the posters up everywhere, and personally encouraged people to attend. Tickets sold quickly.
I also managed to rent a community centre hall for very cheap- mind you, it was in the east end of London, amongst the slums!
The big day came-
The pro showed up to the community centre and, on entering the large auditorium, stood gaping at the crowd. A sea of mostly boys, aged 8-21, met his eyes. Many of them had shaved heads, bomber jackets, wore combat boots, t-shirts emblazoned with swastikas or skulls, and had swastikas tattooed on their foreheads. A jolly group of little rascals!
He then saw for the first time the poster I had made. He said "For fuck's sakes, mate, what the FUCK is this? Bloody kids! What...free fucking anadrol...I could get in serious shit...!!!"
A look of true distress, anger, and who knows what else came over his face.
No sooner had he spoken than 10 police officers arrived, and escorted him out in handcuffs- he began sobbing! When they found the 3 crates (1000 bottles) of anadrol I had generously supplied, and asked whose it was, I simply pointed my thumb in the direction of the pro bodybuilder as he was being led away. "It's his!" I quipped. "Well, I'll be off then" I said innocently, and Nobby and I left- but not before Nobby grabbed the mic and yelled "Now, fuck off you lot, you aint gettin no anadrol tonight, show's over- no bloody refunds, bahstahds! G'wan...FOOK OFF!!" he screamed, then threw the mic and the podium at the angry crowd of disturbed youth!
Chairs soon became airborne, the sound of windows smashing filled the air, and screaming erupted...a true riot was underway.
Luckily, we made it out of the community centre, and drove out of the parking lot just as the ensuing riot, which saw the burning down of the community center, 3 people killed and scores injured, got underway.
We both laughed heartily as Nobby floored the Rolls Royce and we sped away from the scene of calamity!
So, brothers, looks like a certain pro bbder is out of the game for the next several years....
R
revexrevex
Guest
McDonald's INCIDENT...post workout meal!
Brothers,
Lately, I have been having problems with my temper. As I outlined in 'Roid Rage', I had an incident at Church which really made me wonder- am I indeed a bit edgy?
Lately, at McDonald's, another distressing incident occurred.
The other evening, after finishing a brutal workout, Nobby and I staggered out of the gym. Bent bars, snapped cables, holes in the floor from where a bar loaded with 800 pounds had been dropped off of my back at the end of a set of squats, all indicated that truly Herculean efforts had been made by Nobby and I. Time for the post workout meal!
The line up at McDonald's was frightening. Nobby and I entered, and he commented on the crowd. "Watch and learn, Nobby old chap" I remarked, and then I shoved my way up to the front of the line, tossing folk aside and glaring down those who grumbled, before triumphantly reaching the counter. Nobby followed, chain in hand, lest any troublemakers try to protest. "We have to eat NOW, Nobby...our muscles are shrinking, for God's sake!" I cried.
Our turn came to order.
"Good evening, Sir, and what can I get you?" the cashier asked.
"Everything".
"Er..excuse me, Sir? What do you mean by 'everything'?" the pimple-faced punk asked.
"EVERYTHING!!!" I roared, gesturing to the entire array of hamburgers, fries, pies, etc., in front of us. "And make it fucking quick, sunshine" I snapped. Nobby's glare persuaded the terrified boy to quickly begin piling every piece of food in sight onto trays- heaps of various burgers, pies, scoops and scoops of fries...etc, etc.
The waiting was too much- Nobby grabbed a 'Happy Meal' from the hands of a little boy and wolfed down the contents- not even bothering to unwrap the hamburger. As the young lad sniffled, I reprimanded Nobby "You bastard! Get the child something to make him feel better!". Nobby lumbered over to the plastic 'Happy Meal' toy display case, showing all 5 toys available to be collected, punched a hole in it, ripped it off the wall and handed the young lad the 5 toys that had been displayed within. He then punched a lady in the face, snatched her take-out bag, and handed it to the happy lad. "Well done, Nobby- your kindness indeed overrunneth!" I commended him.
Our food took 5 or 6 trips to bring it all to the 3 tables we occupied, and soon we were eating our way through a mountain of food, stopping occasionally to take a swig of whiskey from the bottle I had brought in under my coat.
Some time later, our hands shaking in effort to force feed ourselves, we finally managed to eat the last bit of food. I stood up, and reeled back- well, it wouldn't be the first time I had eaten until I was sick, but brothers, we Warriors suffer the pain!
As Nobby and I staggered out, the manager called us over. "Gentlemen, we just can't have you coming in here next time and..." he wasn't quite finished when, with a "'BLAAAARRRRGGHH!!!" I vomited all over him and, staggering over to the front counter, vomited all over it as well! I needed to replace those lost calories, and seizing a tray of french fries, I threw down a few bills and headed out.
The manager followed us, informing us that he had called the police, and was quickly silenced by a blow from Nobby's fist. As we drove off, several police cars pulled in to the McDonald's parking lot, one of them running over the unconscious manager!
Brothers- is it me- or those McDonald's employees? Aren't they supposed to always smile, for God's sake
Brothers,
Lately, I have been having problems with my temper. As I outlined in 'Roid Rage', I had an incident at Church which really made me wonder- am I indeed a bit edgy?
Lately, at McDonald's, another distressing incident occurred.
The other evening, after finishing a brutal workout, Nobby and I staggered out of the gym. Bent bars, snapped cables, holes in the floor from where a bar loaded with 800 pounds had been dropped off of my back at the end of a set of squats, all indicated that truly Herculean efforts had been made by Nobby and I. Time for the post workout meal!
The line up at McDonald's was frightening. Nobby and I entered, and he commented on the crowd. "Watch and learn, Nobby old chap" I remarked, and then I shoved my way up to the front of the line, tossing folk aside and glaring down those who grumbled, before triumphantly reaching the counter. Nobby followed, chain in hand, lest any troublemakers try to protest. "We have to eat NOW, Nobby...our muscles are shrinking, for God's sake!" I cried.
Our turn came to order.
"Good evening, Sir, and what can I get you?" the cashier asked.
"Everything".
"Er..excuse me, Sir? What do you mean by 'everything'?" the pimple-faced punk asked.
"EVERYTHING!!!" I roared, gesturing to the entire array of hamburgers, fries, pies, etc., in front of us. "And make it fucking quick, sunshine" I snapped. Nobby's glare persuaded the terrified boy to quickly begin piling every piece of food in sight onto trays- heaps of various burgers, pies, scoops and scoops of fries...etc, etc.
The waiting was too much- Nobby grabbed a 'Happy Meal' from the hands of a little boy and wolfed down the contents- not even bothering to unwrap the hamburger. As the young lad sniffled, I reprimanded Nobby "You bastard! Get the child something to make him feel better!". Nobby lumbered over to the plastic 'Happy Meal' toy display case, showing all 5 toys available to be collected, punched a hole in it, ripped it off the wall and handed the young lad the 5 toys that had been displayed within. He then punched a lady in the face, snatched her take-out bag, and handed it to the happy lad. "Well done, Nobby- your kindness indeed overrunneth!" I commended him.
Our food took 5 or 6 trips to bring it all to the 3 tables we occupied, and soon we were eating our way through a mountain of food, stopping occasionally to take a swig of whiskey from the bottle I had brought in under my coat.
Some time later, our hands shaking in effort to force feed ourselves, we finally managed to eat the last bit of food. I stood up, and reeled back- well, it wouldn't be the first time I had eaten until I was sick, but brothers, we Warriors suffer the pain!
As Nobby and I staggered out, the manager called us over. "Gentlemen, we just can't have you coming in here next time and..." he wasn't quite finished when, with a "'BLAAAARRRRGGHH!!!" I vomited all over him and, staggering over to the front counter, vomited all over it as well! I needed to replace those lost calories, and seizing a tray of french fries, I threw down a few bills and headed out.
The manager followed us, informing us that he had called the police, and was quickly silenced by a blow from Nobby's fist. As we drove off, several police cars pulled in to the McDonald's parking lot, one of them running over the unconscious manager!
Brothers- is it me- or those McDonald's employees? Aren't they supposed to always smile, for God's sake
louden_swain
New member
This is great stuff!!! lol
Mike_Rojas
New member
LOL
sorerotators
Well-known member
Check out his last post, ROFL!! http://boards.elitefitness.com/forum/showthread.php?s=&postid=2449709#post2449709
