*Macho's curled up in bed, updating via iPhone with the covers pulled up over his head. There are some Snickers wrappers scattered about; he hasn't taken his loss very well.*
Dudes. Hey, dudes. This is like, a really bad dream right? I really won that match with Soda, and I don't have bruises all over my face, and all these people around my crib are really just there to give me champagne and cake instead of yelling HEY MACHO MAN YOU LOSER HOW COULD YOU LET US DOWN LIKE THAT and oh my god my jaw hurts so much
Seriously this is...like...my first loss since Sandman! SANDMAN! And I mean, I didn't really mind that much 'cause he's Sandman for god's sake (plus he's from Philly, whoo cheesesteak), but Soda Popinski? I didn't think that lush had it in him!
Oh man, oh man...I'm gonna have to declare one hell of a rematch, or else my career's gonna go down the toilet! I'm gonna have to like...do exercise videos or become a personal trainer! Wh-what if nobody hires me and I gotta be one of those washed-up bodybuilders who has to let creepy guys touch my muscles for money?! I can't handle it man, I can't!
...I guess I'd better get out of bed and start training...
*hits "post," sighs, and starts on another Snickers bar*
RELEASE THE BEAST
- dude no way man NO. WAY