I'm sooooo sorry I scared you when you came to visit. Guess your eyes couldn't believe the 0% bodyfat demon your grandfather has turned into on this 365 regimen of brutalizing pyramids, neck crunches, trap rolls and mega kilo arm burners. Welcome to the throne room of my palace of flesh, Danny.
I spent thirty years raising kids like your ungrateful father who can't even look me in the eye - who won't even lavish ten seconds of attention on these high velocity guns I'm packing - I DESERVE this, Danny. You know who looked at me yesterday? A Burger King girl. She looked at me and I know what she was thinking. If I had a phone book I would have torn it up then and there and carried her out of there on my shoulder to sit on a throne in the palace and watch this pump routine go DOWN.
I'm a beast, physically, mentally and now sensually. I'm ready to prove it.
So the next time you feel like crying because WHERE'S GRANDPA well sorry, Danny, he's dead. This magnificent Hulked out stud killed him and he's not coming back.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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