Mule's Blog: Don't Mess with the Hat

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DON'T MESS WITH THE HAT

Story by Mule, original art by Steve, edits by Stefan

Sometimes when I'm outside, I incidentally end up walking behind women with banging bodies, just eyeballing the gyrations of the badonkadonk!

The hair and skin tone makes me suppose that the girl is white or light-skinned Hispanic, so I get excited. But as I walk closer to make a move, I immediately see the face looks something like this:

[NOTE: I'm not racist. It's not that I'm not sexually attracted to Asian women, a hot Chinese chick will make me pop a boner faster than you can say: "You want an egg roll with that?" It's just that I have had terrible luck with the Americanized Chinese Sluts. The out and out banana princesses. Like many of their caucasian American sisters, they feel all entitled, due to all the cucked modern males putting pussy on a pedelstool, and swallowing all the Disney princess malarkey. Whatever happened to dragging a chick back to your cave by their hair? Or: Me Tarzan, you Jane, wanna fuck?]

Well I end up conversating with the Chinese chick and she seems pretty cool. Smart sloot. She is a Veternary Dental Hygenist and works at the Denver Zoo. She takes care of the animals' teeth.

Things started out pretty cool. She let me come to the Zoo while they feed a dead deer that had been hit by a car to a tiger. I don't think I will ever forget the sound of the Tiger biting right through all the bones. That was the good part. It went downhill from there.

Well not right away. At first she got my saliva glands flowing promising some home cooked Chinese food. So we went to her place and she was gonna cook dumplings. I'm like hummmm, ok, how about on the way I also pick up a steak for you to cook for me?
[ Pro tip: Always gotta lock down sufficient protein for your meals, if you want to look like the Mule]

She seemed ok with that. I was so psyched, that I even thought that this one could become part of the regular rotation!

So we go back to her place and she's cooking dumplings, asks if I want any. I say yes, because a. shes hogging the kitchen anyway and b. I never turn down free appetizers, I can handle the carbs.

You want dumplings with your steak?

-I ask for her to throw my steak on too (see point a)

-She asks: How many dumplings, 10?

-No bish, I'm 6'3 and 260 lbs of muscle in case you didn't notice...do me 15.
(I may have been a tad politer, might have said: Pah-lease bish... Hey you can get away with quite a bit when you look like me!)

------10mins later-----

-She comes back, with dumplings look decent-ish and two steak sthat looks like she's overfukincooked them, despite me distinctly telling her I like 'em medium-rare not Fallout-levels of nuking! It is a bad sign when a bish can't follow basic instructions!

-Whatever, I take a few bites of steak to let dumplings cool down...

-Count dumplings

-14

--14

----14

FOURTEEN FU-KIN DUMPLINGS

WHY EVEN ASK HOW MANY I WANT IF UR GNA DO ME LYK DAT

===SERIOUSLY?===

===FUK-IN' SERIOUSLY?===

-I tell her it's only 14, and start getting angry!

-She laughs, says 'oh you actually counted'

-Yeeeeesss, silly slant-eyed hoe, of course I counted. Since you specifically asked how many I wanted, and I specifically replied with a specific numerical integer of how many fuckin' dumplings that I wanted..PLUS this is goddamn Thursday night and I've hit Shoulders and Legs at the gym, and ur still in the fuckin' kitchen acting like you have done your job or something, and can fix something for yourself when my stomach is growling loudly here...

"Oh well, it's ok", she replies completely missing the point of this ENTIRE discussion, and NOW she has the temerity to just sit down with me to eat her plate like she was entitled!

Well I am a calm and magnanimous man by nature, but clearly I am not going to stand for that sort of affrontery, so at that moment when I was just seeing red and had tunnel vision, I dramatically gobbled every single last one of those dumplings, like a sloot mouth-fucks my donger, then licked the plate, drank the awful juice that oozed out of them dumplings, took a piece of bread and proceeded to wipe the entire plate clean to make the point clear enough to even the most dimwitted of bimbos...and as I said, this chick was smart.

-She ignores this elaborate show of hunger and deprivation and carries on chatting in Chinese to her friend on her phone.

I bring my plate back to the kitchen while she's on the phone and I am triggered when I see HOW MUCH EXTRA DUMPLING MATERIAL WAS LEFT OVER!!!

-There's seriously enough for like 45 or so more of these dumplings, its not like we on some sort of war-time ration cards or anything, and to add insult to injury there's how chitty and overdone the steaks were. You don't disrespect juicy, delectable protein-rich U.S. prime beef like that! Wars have been fought over less severe outrages!

The anger.... the rage...when this slut doesn't care about your macros enough to cater your nutrition accordingly? I remembered the Advice on social media after the election: In the case of an extreme triggering, seek a safe space immediately and request one of the following intensive, therapeutic treatments; pet therapy, coloring books, or crying parties. So I stormed on out and ended up at my bro Catbrah's place to play with his 26 cats while he explained his theory on China being a myth.

China Myth

All this is by way of explaining my actions the following weekend. Between being triggered by the dumplings and the upcoming anniverary of Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7 (yeah, I know, Japanese not Chinese but close enuff for me...when I am being discriminatory I don't do so with great refinement or discrimination!)... anyways I was not feeling any love for Chinese people and ANYTHING associated with the vast Orient was going to trigger me!

They say "Always go with your instincts" but my instincts always get me into ALL sorts of trouble. So there I was taking in
Chautauqua Park, trolling for sloots, when I spots this old guy must of been in his sixties, but in decent shape, wearing this ridiculous Chinese coolie hat. My instincts told me to have a bit of fun with that. Plus the hat triggered me...so basically you can blame Dumpling Chick for what followed...

So I knock off his hat, and toss it to some random college hipster with the exclamation: "Frisbee Toss."

In slow, even tones that caused my neck hackles to scream STRANGER DANGER, the old man said: "You should not have done that kid."

You should not have done that kid.

Unfortunately for me, I had totally missed seeing the Navy SEAL tatoo on his hand earlier.

I did notice it right before a big powerful fist was connecting to my face and I was engaged in astronomy!

I shook my head clear, put up my dukes, and snarled. "You are pretty good with a sucker punch old man,I give you that, but how would you fare in an honest fight." The old-timer was remarkably fast and he connected again with my jaw sending me flying on my muscular ass despite me being OSTENSIBLY prepared.

I replied, “OK, now I am pissed. Bring it on, old timer.”

"Just be careful Life Alert dude." I cautioned. "You don’t wanna break a hip.”

"That's going to cost you," the old man snarled in reply.  He immediately drives a boot into my abs that totally doubled me over.

Then the venerable combatant flung his mighty arms back for a tomahawk chop, but as he did I was able to pound a few solid shots to his exposed abs that did little more than vibrate the old man's cast iron mid section. The senile SEAL’s arms remained raised and then he chopped them down, slicing deep into my mountain-peak traps.

I tried to protect myself as I crunched my shoulders up, but the powerful blow hurt me badly, making me fall to my knees. The aged agressor immediately kicked me in the abs again with a kick that could have put a football thru the goalposts from the 60 yard line. I fell to my knees, almost vomiting onto the ground, holding my stomach with both hands. The old man raised his powerful arms up, clasped hands and hammered me hard across my broad muscular back. It took four mighty blows but eventually I was face down onto the ground. On the ground I tried to grab the old fogey's ankles but was savagely kicked in the face. Blood began to seep from my mouth. Well-Past-His-Sellby-Date then brutally stomped on the back of my head. For a minute my head was splitting just as the old man roared and connected with a right kick to my jaw.

The ancient assailant stood looming over your beefy Mule as I struggled back up onto all fours shaking off the cobwebs. I was gagging trying to breathe. I was trying to get a breath, spasms racking my core, the pain in my back was incredible!  I could not stand 'cause my back would not work right.

Don't fret it son, I can take down tougher dudes
than you without working up a sweat!

Not your fault you turned out to be such a wuss,
you belong to a soft generation of pussified males!

The name's Roger, and I guess you are called
something like Candy or Caitlyn! he chuckled
It's Mule you old bastard...MULE! I spluttered back,
spewing bloody spit

O.K. Round One goes to Kung-fu Grandpa.

Alright, no more fooling around here, I had to really UP my game.

This Mule ain't done yet. I picked myself up and prepared for ROUND TWO...

I slowly roll to hands and knees. I see the old man moving in, but I can’t react before he leaps up and splashes down across my back. BOOM! I collapse under his weight. He slides over my wide back, moving into a seated position. He grabs my arms, yanking them up and over his knees, I fight back, but I can’t stop him from pulling me up into a perfectly applied camel clutch. I moan as he pulls back, stretching my head back. I'm bent so far back that I'm looking at the sky as I suffer. The O.G. bad-ass is in my face, asking if I want to submit, but I refuse to give in. My back feels like it will break as he pulls me up and back in response to my refusal. I moan loudly, suffering in the cruel hold.

I suffer and hold out for what seems like hours. The harder he yanks, the greater my willpower. Frustrated by my stubbornness, the old-timer goes dirty and slides his index fingers into either side of my mouth. He pulls, stretching my mouth open, adding a fish hook to his killer camel clutch. Still, I manage to focus and resist his command to submit. Unable to break free, I go dirty too. I open my jaw and catch one of off the old geeaer's fingers. I bite down for all I’m worth. CHOMP! YEEARGH! It’s the gaffer's turn to scream as I shock him with the move. At the same time, I summon my strength and thrust my arms forward. He loses focus enough that he can’t stop me.

I collapse to the ground while he shakes his hand out. He’s cursing and telling me what a bitch move that was and I can’t blame him. Still, I’m free. For the moment. The Primeval goon’s too smart to let this throw him off his game. He rises up and stomps my back mercilessly. I try to rise only to be stomped down again.

The venerable veteran marches up and reaches down to grab my hair. I fire a fist that hits him in the thigh. I was aiming higher, but that's what I could manage. It has no effect as I'm dragged to my feet like a rag doll. He forces me up. I’m out on my feet as I stand there. Mr. Yesteryear has really taken it to me with his stomps to my lower spine.

The antique adversary says, “When a man like me tells a boy like you to give, you fucking do it. Now, we’re gonna try this again and again until you get it.”

My nickname is the Chiropractor, and I will realign your spine!

I guess they call you Mule because you are a
sterile, stubborn candy-ass!

I think I shall call you Hinny, the name for a female mule!

Yuck it up old-timer, your comeuppance is coming!

Oh really? Is one or two of your transvestite friends going to
come to help you out? Hit me with their purses?

Because all I see right now is Hinny getting her ass kicked!

He forces my head back, arching my spine as he wedges my face into his armpit. In one smooth move, he drops down in a reverse DDT, driving my back and head into the hard ground. My back spasms and I convulse on the ground. I'm completely stunned by the impact, knocked nearly unconscious. He mounts me in a schoolboy pin and flexes into a double bicep pose.

He leans over me, fucking my face with his bulge. He rubs it all over, mocking me the entire time. When he's had his fun, the muscled senior sits back and slaps my face to wake me up. When my eyes open, I see him smile before he mounts my shoulders, facing my boots. His ass smothers my nose and mouth as I’m overwhelmed by the smell and taste of his sweaty musk as it fills me. The manly musk of the aged powerhouse makes my disorientation even greater. All I can see is his back, rising up. I can’t do much other than wonder what he’s got planned for me next.

As I look up over his ass, I see his back tense then feel a hard punch to my left pec. It's followed by a hard punch to my right pec. He starts pummeling my chest with powerful fists, savagely beating my pecs like a drum.

"Give, junior! This is a man telling you. GIVE!"

"ARGH! NO! Ain't happenin' Pops!"

You ready to cry UNCLE yet??!

I mean you looked like you might have been able to put up
more of a fight, guess those are just SHOW MUSCLES!

If it wasn't for the bulge, I would wonder if you
even possessed a penis!

Unless you are wearing a strap-on like I hear you
dykes like to do!

I am going to make you EAT those words...you old fucker!

Big talk from a guy who has spent most of this fight
flat on his back!

It ain't over yet....I growled
Then why is the fat lady running through her scales? he replied

O.K. so Round Two went even more badly than Round One...

Don't get up kid, or I will hurt you some more!
-- said Kung-fu Grandpa
Mmmmmrrrghhhhh --I replied

But I wasn't LICKED YET!

time for FINAL ELIMINATION ROUND!

]
The next few minutes are a blur as I get stomped, pounded, kneed and elbowed relentlessly. I feel like a pile of mush, helpless under his awesome power.

I sense myself being dragged up. The old man draws back his fist, aiming it at my face. The former military muscleman fires the fist across my jaw. I see stars and almost collapse. As I stand there on spaghetti legs, as my vision starts to clear a little, I realize I'm staring at the sky. I realize we're back-to-back with the back of my head resting on his shoulder. Oh no. I'm being set up for a neckbreaker! In a near panic, I swing my arms to break free, but it's too late. Time seems to stop as I fall down then suddenly we land and my head is slammed into his unbreakable shoulder. CRACK!

The force and speed causes a shockwave that travels all the way down my spine, all the way to my toes. I see a white flash of my own pain just as my body shuts down. The white flash is replaced by darkness as I lose consciousness.

I wasn't just knocked down, I was knocked out COLD!

When I woke up about an hour later, I was sitting on a park bench. I could feel the wood slats against my back, as my world very slowly began to come back to me.

OH SHIT, I HURT! Fuck! Everything in my body hurts! OH GOD my back! It feels broken but it can’t be, my legs are still working. Fuck, the old man had really worked me over. DAMN! That guy really kicked my ASS!

Even with all my muscle and fighting skill the few punches I got in did me no good AT ALL. He had took me to the CLEANERS! That dude wiped up the floor with my muscle-bound body!

I can only assume the old man had propped up my 'dead to the world' unconcious body on the bench. He was nowhere to be seen, but I had a hand written note tucked in one of my pockets that read "If you wake up before 7pm meet me at the Shine and I will let you buy me a beer and a rib-eye"

I checked the time. 6:45. Good timing, I could just make it.....

See ya kid, wouldn't want to be you!

At least I didn't end up head down in a dumpster this time!

A true winner takes his defeats as learning experiences...

In retrospect I can honestly say I learned quite a
harsh lesson in pain that day!

Time to find a sloot for later, fighting always gets me horny!
noted Roger scanning for likelies

I had a crazy dream about fighting some dumplings
with mad Kung-fu skills

I sure love kicking the asses of young cocky punks,
a regular occurance in this Collge town!

Well you never are going to learn, if you are never
made to pay for your mistakes!

It was a hard fought fight...Skill and Experience triumphed over Youth and Stubbornness. Turns out that Kung-fu Grandpa was an ex-SEAL who had done all sorts of clandestine shit in Southeast Asia, Central America, and other who-the-else-knows-where places. If he told me the where and why, he would have had to kill me. We met for drinks at The Shine, and the special forces dude, whose name, as you learned is Roger, turned out to be a pretty cool guy, except of course for his ridiculous taste in hats. I'd keep mum about the hat around Roger, though, if I were you. Roger may have earned the Medal of Honor and a Purple Heart, but I had earned plenty of purple bruises and contusions that day, let me tell you. I have to get Roger to teach me some of that Shaolin shit he knows, it might come in handy the next scrape I get in to due to my impulsive behavior. Word to the wise, DON'T MESS WITH THE HAT!

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