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  1. Monsieur is offline

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    Posted On:
    6/26/2013 7:40pm


     Style: MMA

    6
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by Gun-Maga View Post
    certain local mma troublemakers

    I was at a local bar with some friends, just having a few drinks. It was nothing special, just our traditional wednesday night down at the bar.
    I was just about to order a beer, when all of a sudden a gang of drunk, loud men entered the bar. I recognized them right away: it was Randy Couture and his gang of MMA fighters.

    “Uh-oh, here comes trouble” one of my friends said.

    “Don’t worry”, I said, “just ignore them.”

    I tried to pay as little attention to the gang of cage fighters as possible, and didn‘t even look their way, although it was hard not to, as they were making so much noise, screaming and howling like the drunken animals they were - animals without honor or dignity.
    Just as I was handing the bartender some cash for my beer, Randy Couture slid up right next to me. He reeked of alcohol, pot and possibly vomit, and he was smoking a cigarr. As he blew the smoke in my face, he asked me:

    “So, what’s a cute little ****** like you doing out on town, all by yourself? Are you… looking for some action?”

    His battered, scarred and red-swollen face was right next to mine, and the stench from his mouth was sickening. It smelled as if something had died in there, or as if all his teeth were rotten, and ready to fall off. Which, judging from how they looked, they might very well have been.
    I met his hazy, drunken gaze, and told him:

    “Sir, I don’t want any trouble.”

    Randy went silent for a few seconds, and then burst out into a crazy laugh, sending out waves of stinky air, mixed with slimy brown spit, right into my face.

    “Well, well, listen to this girly little pussyboy! He doesn’t ‘want any trouble‘! Naaaaw! How about that! Well, fag-ass, too bad trouble wants a big chunk of those cute girly-cheeks of yours!”

    As he reached out with his hand towards my face, I instinctively went into stance. Before his hand could touch me I blocked it with a hard pak sao, which sent his arm back towards his own face.

    “Sir, would you please back up!” I said, with as stern a voice as I could muster at that moment.

    For a moment, Randy looked puzzled. Then I could see the steroid fueled rage start to build in his insane eyes. He let out a wild scream and launched at me, sending his right arm in a wide arc through the smoke filled air, forming a wild swinging haymaker.
    I remained calm inside, like the mosquito, settling on the tiger’s back, as my Sifu had taught me, through many grueling hours of training in the kwoon. Before his fist had made it to my face, I hade bridged the gap between us, and was smashing his face in with a devastating series of machinegun speed chainpunches.
    Randys face was reduced to a pulp of blood, flesh and broken bones. He fell dying to the floor, before his head finally exploded in a cascade of blood and brains.

    “I told you I didn’t want any trouble, sir.” I said, as I stood over the twitching corpse, still in my crane-bites-the-snakes-neck-in-its-flight-stance.

    That was when someone came up from behind and "bear-hugged" me. By the size of the arms, there was no doubt in my mind who was attacking me. It could only be Brock Lesnar.

    “HURR DURR BROCK CRUSH YOU NOW WEAK ANT! BROCK STRONG WRESTLER! YOUR KUNG FU NOT WORK AGAINST THE BROCK!” his gorillaesque voice roared in my ear.

    “Sir, would you please let me go?” I said, with great effort, as Brocks bear-hug was squeezing all the air out of my lungs.

    “HAAA HAAAAA, HURR DURR, TOO LATE NOW LITTLE ANT! BROCK WILL CRUSH YOU!”

    That was all I needed to hear. As I sank down into my horse stance, focusing all my chi to the lower chakra, I could feel his grip loosening. Then, as his hands were separating, I quickly spun around, and delivered a one-inch-palm-strike-chi-blast to his sternum. I backed away, assumed the praying mantis stance, and retracted the glowing aura that unfolded whenever I brought forth my inner power, as I didn’t want to attract too much attention.

    “RAAAAAH, HAAAA! WHAT WAS THAT LITTLE ANT? NO HURT THE BROCK WITH SUCH PUNY PUNCH! THE BROCK MUST KILL YOU NOW!”

    “It’s too late for that, I’m afraid, sir. I struck a vital pressure point on your body. Your chi-flow has been disrupted. As it happens, you are already dead.”

    “GRRRAAAAAAAAARGH,” Brock screamed, as his body disintegrated into a splattering fountain of blood, intestines, bones and half-digested beef jerky.

    To be continued ...
  2. Holy Moment is online now
    Holy Moment's Avatar

    Light Heavyweight

    Join Date
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    Posted On:
    6/26/2013 8:45pm

    supporting member
     Style: Wrestling

    1
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    “So, what’s a cute little ****** like you doing out on town, all by yourself? Are you… looking for some action?”

    His battered, scarred and red-swollen face was right next to mine, and the stench from his mouth was sickening. It smelled as if something had died in there, or as if all his teeth were rotten, and ready to fall off. Which, judging from how they looked, they might very well have been.
    I met his hazy, drunken gaze, and told him:

    “Sir, I don’t want any trouble.”
    I'm calling bullshit on this story already. Who wouldn't be willing to give Randy some cock if he asked?
  3. BJMills is offline

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    Posted On:
    6/26/2013 10:31pm


     Style: Muay Thai/Wrestling

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by Holy Moment View Post
    I'm calling bullshit on this story already. Who wouldn't be willing to give Randy some cock if he asked?
    I don't think the Randy in that story planned on playing catcher. Could be wrong. It's not my story. But that's the impression I got.

    Also, wasn't there a fat Kung fu guy- Phil something who used to write like that?
  4. Mister is offline

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    645

    Posted On:
    6/29/2013 7:37am


     Style: Injured

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by catfishaggie View Post
    I don't really know. I remember it coming on here and these tl;dr's with starting with m.a. and tangent about aliens and reality.....

    I'm just glad I'm not the only one that sees it lol
    Yeah, I see it too.

    I tried to help him.
  5. lukerawks is offline

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    Posted On:
    6/29/2013 8:18am


     Style: BJJ

    3
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by Gun-Maga View Post
    Bros

    What is it that you dont get in what I try to say?
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  6. Holy Moment is online now
    Holy Moment's Avatar

    Light Heavyweight

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    Posted On:
    6/30/2013 8:24am

    supporting member
     Style: Wrestling

    1
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    I promised this, so you little shitboats better not be surprised. Underground PitFighting is back in town!



    Regional Qualifying Match #5

    Ms. Boltzmann heaved a sigh of satisfaction. For once, the head count didn't come up short. She could accompany her students back to Walter M. Schirra Elementary on time, without having to call the authorities to search the reservoir. God knows how many children she's lost over the years during field trips. She might have a better track record if she hadn't trained here mind to tune the prattling little fucks out, but old habits are tough to break.

    Readjusting her cleavage, she orders her class of first graders to form a line and march into the bus single file. All is going smoothly when the obese little mongoloid at the head of the line suddenly stops on the stairs.


    Ms. Boltzmann: Jameel, you goddamn miscarriage, get on the bus!

    Jameel fidgets arounds and looks back at Ms. Boltzmann confusedly. The bronze-haired Jersey broad storms over to her snot-dribbling pubil, intent on giving him a good shot in the eye to start his Summer vacation off right. When she reaches the door, however, an unexpected sight stuns her dead in her tracks: A seventy-year-old Chinese man in a silk kung-fu uniform flapping his arms around like a bird.

    "Duckman" Harvey Pekar: Quack!

    Boltzmann pulls Jameel out of the bus and frantically forces the rest of the class back to the sidewalk. The creep continues waving his arms around and stepping up and down the aisle as if he has webbed feet.

    Ms. Boltzmann: Oh, ****! What is going on here? Where's the bus driver?

    "Duckman" Harvey Pekar: Quack! Quack!

    The gaggle of students under Boltzmann's care gather around and spit questions at her left and right. Knocking them all down in one fell swoop with a Three Stooges-style slap, she looks around trying to find anyone who could help her. Just as she's about to go back to the nature center to see if she can get ahold of more tranquilizers, a man running towards her from across the parking lot suddenly catches her eye. He's a sizable bloke, built like a stereotypical ex-athlete at 6'3" and 280 lbs. He's wearing a Blues Brothers getup, sunglasses and all, and has a set of muttonchops that look like bat wings on the side of his head. Halting just short of the sidewalk, he appears to tower over Ms. Boltzmann just as she towers over the children.

    The Cinnamon Bandit: Where is he?

    Ms. Boltzmann: In the bus. Who are-

    The man turns on a dime and makes a beeline towards the bus door. Stepping in, cautiously but non-reluctantly, he sees Duckman perched in the back like he's roosting on some eggs. While the children scream mindlessly outside, the fedora-capped Bandit clears his throat to get the avian-esque madman's attention, causing him to spring to his feet and flap his his arms spastically in surprise. When the eyes of both men meet, however, a dead silence suddenly ripples from the bus like a shockwave and permeates the entire parking lot. The uneasy quietness cuts through the surrounding woods, spreading across the reservoir and hitting the network of highways beyond. Cars stop suddenly in their tracks, the sheer intensity of this moment appearing to just completely freeze all life around it. The camera bolted on the ceiling is their cue to start this affair immediately.

    "Duckman" Harvey Pekar: Quaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    Duckman begins stalking down the aisle to his opponent like Chuck Berry dancing across a stage with his guitar. He hisses like a goose with his arms extended at both sides, gently fluttering in and out to maneuver them around the seats. When he's in striking range, however, The Cinnamon Bandit just bullrushes him like an ex-bodybuilder on his first day of BJJ and drives him straight back into the rear of the bus. The latch on the emergency door just about gives way while the two clumsily jockey for position in their undersized arena. Pulling Duckman's silk shirt over his head, the Bandit unleashes a blood-splattering knee that wobbles the Fu Manchu-stached nutball to his knees.

    "Duckman" Harvey Pekar: *Cough*Cough* Quack!

    The Cinnamon Bandit stretches Duckman across the filthy floor and ties both of his arms down in a crucifix position. The avian man's blood mingles awkwardly with the dried gum wedged into the ridges on the ground, the crimson fluid spurting out of his mouth like a geyser with each Roy Nelson punch the Bandit smashes him with. After a few solid hits, the Bandit feels that his foe is suitably compliant enough for him to lower the boom.

    The Cinnamon Bandit: Oh God, here it comes!

    Still keeping both of Duckman's arms pinned to the floor, the Bandit pulls a bottle of cinnamon out from his jacket pocket and places it on top of a nearby seat. Unscrewing the top, he gingerly produces a stainless silver spoon and shovels a heap of the brown powder out of its container. Before Duckman can even comprehend what's happening, he's coughing violently as the Bandit forces the spice down his mouth and into his windpipe. Duckman's eyes water and his chest twitches as he attempts to keep the dangerously dry powder from caking in the back of his throat and choking him. Before he can spit hardly any of it out, the Bandit has forced another heinous spoonful down his gullet and sprinkled some right up his nose.

    "Duckman" Harvey Pekar: *Cough*Cough* Qua-*COUGH!!!*

    The Cinnamon Bandit does not cease in his assault. Duckman feels the cold grasp of death slowly overtaking him.

    "Duckman" Harvey Pekar: Sto-*COUGH*COUGH* Having... Chest... Pa-*COUGH!!!*

    Duckman tries to tap out, but the Cinnamon Bandit just assumes he's flapping his arms around again. It takes about half a bottle of the stuff to finally satisfy the Bandit of his opponent's defeat. Dusting himself off, he collects his tools and jogs out of the bus back into the parking lot, where the first graders are waiting to cheer him on. He tips his hat and is just about to make his leave before Ms. Boltzmann stops him.

    Ms. Boltzmann: Wait! Who are you? Are you with the FBI?

    The Cinnamon Bandit: No, ma'am... I'm a PitFighter.

    Ms. Boltzmann: What's a PitFi-

    Without warning, the Bandit unleashes a massive uppercut that launches the first grade teacher twelve feet into the air. She lands with a meaty thud flat on her back, her pupils as large as silver dollars.

    The Cinnamon Bandit: That's what a PitFighter is, ma'am.

    Ms. Boltzmann: Oh... I understand now.

    The children cheer even louder now. The Cinnamon Bandit gives Jameel a high five before running down the parking lot and up the long, barren road beyond. Duckman slinks out of the bus on his hands and knees, globules of brown putty rolling out of his mouth with each breath he takes. With Ms. Boltzmann too busy seizuring to supervise them, her class pelts the elderly man's testicles with rocks and begin raiding the unlocked snack bar nearby. Following that, they steal several tanks of poisonous snakes from the nature center as weapons and hijack the reservoir ferry to hold off the policemen who come to rescue them in the hours to come. Three officers die in the subsequent shootout.
    Last edited by Holy Moment; 6/30/2013 8:32am at .
  7. ChenPengFi is offline
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    Senior Member

    Join Date
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    Location
    Hawai'i
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    3,246

    Posted On:
    6/30/2013 12:49pm

    Join us... or die
     Style: Hung Gar, Choy Lay Fut

    2
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Venlige hilsen fra Hawai'i!!

    Lille knaegt, hvad fanden siger du?
    Kender du ikke:

    Den som først er fisen var
    den er fisens rette far

    Den som kjenner fisens far
    han må være fisens kar

    Den som sier disse ord
    den må være fisens mor

    Den som kjenner fisens mor
    han må være fisens bror

    Den som jo alt dette vet
    den må være den som dret

    Den som tegner dette bilde
    han må være fisens kilde

    Den som kjenner fisens lukt
    den må eie fisens ”bukt”

    Den som hørte fisens pip
    han må være fisens skip

    Den som skoda prompens dis
    han har sluppet denne fis

    Den som lo når fisen fløy
    ho må være fisens møy

    Den som tycks fis er gøy
    ho må være prompens røy

    Den som hørste fisen lyde
    den har selv latt fisen flyde

    Den som hørte fisens rop
    han er ett med fisens grop

    Den som kjenner fisens veier
    han er fisens rette eier

    Den som fiser stadig vekk
    den må være fisens bekk

    Den som fes i siste lag
    han har sluppet fis i dag

    Den som så hvor fisen fòr
    ho er fisens sanne mor

    Den som plager fisens mor
    han lot lyde fisens ”kor”

    Den som hørte fisens tone
    hun er fisens rette kone

    Den som hørte fisens dur
    den er selv et ”fise-djur”

    Den som følte fisens vind
    den har selv kjent fisen sin

    Den som skjuler fisens lyd den har såret fisens dyd,
    men den som liker fisens dunst den har vunnet fisens gunst

    Den som jo først fisen aner
    den har mange fisevaner

    Den som kjenner fisen lyster
    den er fisens faste syster

    Den som kjenner fisen komme
    han har blåst sin tarme tomme

    Den som kjenner fisen nippe
    den er fisens faste klippe

    Den som sanset fisens støy
    den tok fisen først i køy

    Den som viser fisens prakt
    den er eier av fisens faste drakt

    Den som senser fisens stank
    den har selv hatt gass på tank

    Den som roper fisenavn
    han har selv hatt fis i favn

    Den som bjuder fisen inn i haven
    feirer fisens fastelaven

    Den som kjenner fisen smutter
    den er fisens faste mutter

    Den som først har fis på tann
    han er fisens rette mann

    Den som jo først fisen fatter
    den er fisens rette datter

    Den som skildrer fisens farving
    den er fisens rette arving

    Den som synes at fisen lokker
    den er fisens gamlerocker

    Den som kjenner fisens varme
    eier fisens opphavstarme

    De som kjenner fisens duft
    den har selv utsluppet luft

    Den som kjenner fisens sluk
    den har selv hatt fis i buk

    Den som skuet fisens due
    den har fisens rompehue

    Den som føler fisen kræsje
    må jo ut på do og bæsje

    Den som kjenner fisens lyst
    lader rompa klar til dyst

    Den som mener fis er gyldig
    den er fisen skyldig

    Den som kjenner fisen skvetter
    den er fisens svartepetter

    Den som frykter fisens lune
    legger Maos lille brune

    Den som aner fisens ferd
    han er fisens rette nerd

    Den som kjenner fisen trenge
    han har selv latt tarmen slenge??!!!



    Just sayin!

    Hi hi!


  8. ChenPengFi is offline
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    Posted On:
    6/30/2013 4:03pm

    Join us... or die
     Style: Hung Gar, Choy Lay Fut

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    That's 47 versions of
    "He who smelt it dealt it"
    in Danish,
    in case case any of you are wondering and Google translate etc are of no help.

    "Den som først er fisen var
    den er fisens rette far"

    is basically

    "The first place the fart was
    is the fart's proper father"

    and so on...
  9. BoonDog is offline
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    Welterweight

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    Lynnwood, WA
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    Posted On:
    7/01/2013 7:20pm

    supporting member
     Style: running scared

    1
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by ChenPengFi View Post
    That's 47 versions of
    "He who smelt it dealt it"
    in Danish,
    I thought you were speaking pidgin and I was trying to translate it from that. No wonder it was not working.
  10. -TANK- is offline

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    Jan 2013
    Location
    Albuquerque, New Mexico
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    Posted On:
    7/03/2013 4:27am


     Style: Judo, Wrestling, TKD

    --
    Hell yeah! Hell no!
    Quote Originally Posted by Gun-Maga View Post
    I'll just say that sometimes I am greatly amused when it is back in the ring vs the same street is the eternal problem

    P.S: You have really awesome forum and excuse my poor skill in english - I try to learn it better in the future ;)
    Can't wait.
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