at all NE's XC a couple of years ago the providence studs take it out....i think it's keith kelly and hamish thorpe running together . mark miller from keene state decides to sack it up and run right with the leaders. as they come by the backstop for the first time.....they both look over at miller and simply ask "do you intend to stay here" before dropping him. to his credit, miller still ran a great race.
Mr Chest wrote:
Little runts talking trash. Puny weasels scratching and pulling each other's hair on the course. Every time I come here you puny little queers give me a laugh. Let me give you a recent example of what happens when one of you little runts cross Mr. Chest.
Yesterday, it was nice out and Mr. Chest went for a drive in his Lexus. Up ahead running in the road like he owned it was a fag little runner in his gay little split shorts. He had plenty of shoulder on the road but, like all of you little sissies, he thought he owned the road. Big mistake. An even bigger mistake was when he gave Mr. Chest the finger for running him off the road.
I slammed on my breaks, slammed it in reverse and pulled in front of the runt. I jumped out and told him I was going to teach him some manners. His eyes nearly popped out if his head when I ripped of my shirt and grabbed him. This one was more puny that most of the ones I stomp and he bounced off the pavement like a rubber ball. I put a knee on his throat and beat the slapped him around until he begged me to let him up. I obliged. Then I threw a left hook and followed it up with an uppercut. He slumped against my car and fell to the ground, blood gushing from his nose. I then kicked him in the ribs for good measure. As he laid there moaning, bleeding and holding his ribs, I told him to thank Mr. Chest for the lessons in having some manners he just received. Mr. Chest is always glad to teach you little runts some class. Ha ha hahaha.
The most poigniant fact in this story is, Mr. Chest took off his shirt before his tussle with his boy-toy.
If that ain't gay, I don't know what is. Just kidding, I do know what is: Mr. Chest.
Generic Poster wrote:
Entering the last lap of a 5,000, a competitor was on his shoulder, looked him in the eye, and shouted "Let's go, f**k face!"
Did he somehow work the f***in' asterisks into that verbal challenge? Sturdy goddam work. Wish I could figure that shit out because it would make my everyday life a f*** of a lot easier. I don't do so friggin' well at job interviews.
One time eons ago I did see some kid from BU wearing huge f***in' coke bottle spectacles (looked like a white goddam Urkel) outkick everyone in a slow-ass heat of the mile on his own friggin' track at the Terrier Classic. Must have been some serious shit going down midrace that I missed because right after he finished he turned around and took a poke at some f***er but actually nailed some other poor bastard who was finishing in the side of the bean. BAM! Instant cauliflower ear. On his home track in front of a cast of frigging thousands. Well, maybe dozens.