FIRST POSTED: December 15, 2006
As you may know by now, helping my fellow
bodybuilding brothers is something I am always prepared to do, because that is
the kind of decent human being that I am. Case in
point- the other week, while training legs, with Mongo, I couldn't help but
notice a fellow who kept blurting out obscenities as he trained. While doing
curls, he kept snarling something like :
"...FUCKIN' FUCKERS.... COCK-SUCKING FUCKER BITCH!!", sputtering and spitting as he spat out foul and obscene
things.
"He's fuckin' HARDCORE.." Mongo commented.I stood back, arms folded, and seriously examined the man from a
distance before coming to my own conclusions-
"No, Mongo, he's a man with
a serious condition that needs treatment...that man, Mongo, has TOURETTES SYNDROME!" I declared. I explained the condition to a mystified Mongo,
about how it renders those suffering from it prone to uncontrolled outbursts,
often foul-mouthed and noisy in nature!
The gym manager
and a personal trainer approached the man, as he rested between sets.
"Excuse me...sir....please you'll have to stop yelling obscenities...we
will have to ask you to leave...some members have complained to us" the
manager said, motioning to a couple of middle-aged women using treadmills, and
nervously looking over at the man. The fellow with Tourettes Syndrome started
quivering, then spat out:
"FUCK off you FUCKIN' FUCKERS!"
With that, the manager marched off, picked up the phone and likely
contacted the police. Well, bros, I'd seen enough of
this poor handicapped fellow being mistreated. I lumbered over to the front
desk, and began berating the manager. Then I made may way over to the two women
who had complained, and flipped over the treadmills while they were on them!
After setting the manager straight, I made my way to
the handicapped man and offered to help.
"Look, brother, you need
treatment. Tourettes Syndrome CAN be managed with treatment and
medication...".
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| Wear your teal ribbons with Fuckin' Pride you Shithead Fucking Bitches! |
He looked lost. "What the FUCK? I AINT GOT NO FUCKIN' TURRETS SYNDROME OR WHATEVER! SO GO FUCK YERSELF YE FUCKING FUCK!" he
screamed at me.
"This is for your own good!" I
declared, then clotheslined him to the ground, and gave him a good old fashioned
kick to the head. Then I stomped him in the nuts. "Stay down..." I
cautioned him, "or "I'll wrap my dick around your neck and start you up like a
fuckin' lawnmower!"
Finally subdued, I took him out to
the parking lot, ducktaped his mouth, hands and feet, tossed him into the back
of the Jeep, and headed over with Mongo to the nearest Mental Health facility.
We dragged him in
the front doors, and dumped his beaten semi-conscious form in front of the
reception counter. "This man has Tourettes syndrome- see to it he gets the
help he NEEDS!" I commanded the shocked nurse at the counter.
Mongo and I headed out. Haven't see the man around the gym
ever since. Surely he is in treatment, perhaps institutionalized, and at night,
as I remind myself of my kindness, I sleep the sleep of the just! So, bros, if someone at your gym needs an intervention for
their own good- well, by God, DO IT!
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