So, I heard about this guy. An alien. The dude in charge says aliens are bad and that we need to build a fucking wall to keep them out.
Hell. Nobody needs no wimpy-ass fucking wall to keep people out. Not when I’m around.
Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t fuckin’ care where you are from. I do care about anyone thinking they can best my muscle. Muscles should be worshipped. Power should be used.
Someone will probably call it a fight. His apologists certainly will. If one punch is a battle, a fight, a death-match, well, this was the result.
And of course, this
But it wasn’t about him, it was about that shirt. The blue, red diamond-thing, S fuckin’ shirt. Ya see, he said nothing could break it. He flexed. Not even his muscles could conquer that material. He even said he’d be even bigger if it didn’t hold his strength in.
Well, he’s on the ground now calling for his mommy, and I have the shirt. Let’s see how well it works.
I’m sure you wimps want to hear how it was my muscles against this alien-super-spandex. I know you want to hear how I had to flex to rip it. Live with disappointment. Did you really think my muscles could ever be contained by any shirt? It can’t even tolerate my bricks.
And in case you were stupid enough to think my pecs were any weaker…
FUCK!!!! Flexing feels so amazing!
OH FUCK YA!