Originally Posted by Sharp
It was this or write a speech. Thanks Allen
Bags' newfound usage of milk in order to achieve gains will be his ultimate downfall.
Unbeknownst to (relatively) young Anthony, he's developed a slight but definite lactose intolerance. While his stomach has been relatively strong, the dedication to his muscular growth will create a problem his body is unprepared for. What he, at first, shakes off as his body 'getting used to' all of this fuel for his gains is the vanguard for Bags' demise.
The sickness is tolerable at first. Our unknowing tragic hero puts himself on what he sees as a 'safe' regimen - half a gallon a day. The flatulence and occasional vomiting are but a small fare for the ride along the path of bodily divinity. On top of that, his love of telling poor college kids 'gosh, if I had that much student debt I might just consider killing myself out of obligation to my family' has lead to an unprecedented amount of sick days saved up, meaning this slight interference won't stop him from receiving the pay he needs for his precious milk. This sickness, however, has stopped him from exercising, but the calories from milk become, in his warped little mind, the 'gains' he so desperately sought after.
Years pass. 7, to be exact. Bags is a bloated shell of a man. Pale, grotesque, but with slightly larger lats, he is rushed to what will be his final stay at Harrisburg's finest hospital/mcdonalds (a business model developed by Cashius in 2015, but that's another thread). As the bed gives way to support his massive frame, bags attempts to sit up and reach his phone to post on PRNBIA (we finally managed to merge, but the ensuing site shutdowns and having to re-register left only diode, eddie, and He whose name shall not be spoken as active figures in text. Allen Knight made an account to call bags a faggot but forgot how to spell his password immediately. Ironically enough, it was 'faggot') about some other muscle gaining strategy he read about in Sports Illustrated Kids. In doing so, he makes an awkward turn, wherein the fragile lining of his stomach tears, finally spilling his disgusting acidic mass into the entirety of his torso.
His pupils dilate.
He defecates.
Sweat forms at his brow.
He defecates again.
He vomits.
He defecates again.
He reaches for his phone, attempting to make one last video.
Defecating again, he manages to hit what he thinks is the 'record' button. But his phone was on camera mode - instead of starting to record he has taken a picture of himself vomiting, while shitting himself. Unaware, he begins his last words.
'HEY BROS. BAGS HERE... I MAY HAVE SHIT MYSELF'
He defecates again.
'I PROBABLY SHIT MYSELF'
He vomits, sweat pouring down his rotund face.
Hospital staff, patients, and passers-by alike all can hear this with perfect clarity.
'I JUST WANTED TO SAY.... ALLEN KNIGGHHHH.... YOU FUCKIN... YOU FUCKIN....'
He defecates again.
As his lungs and heart corrode and melt, muscle spasms cause him to hit the 'capture' button multiple times. (Split Eight, upon hacking into Bags' phone recovers them all and sells them to the huffington post for half of an 'Alf' sweater and a special edition Star Wars episode 1 1/3 bubble tape. They later print them in full color on a slow news day.)
The room blackens for Bags. Doctors and nurses rushing to his aid become silhouettes, then vague figures, then nothing.
He defecates again.
Reflecting on his life and the fatal decision and dedication that would define and ultimately end it, Bags realizes that his lats are so sweet.
The heart monitor hits a single, monotonous tone that resonates from the highest of registers all the way down to the depths of hell.
He defecates one last time.
Good night, Bagsworth.
|