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- Joined
- Mar 3, 2012
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- 1,332
So i found this on facebook, flicking around the do you even lift page "DYEL"
I still can't believe it. I had dinner this evening with none other than mass-monster GUNTER SCHLIERKAMP! I was working out with gymbro, when, lo and behold, there was Gunter.
Gymbro and I lumbered over and asked to work in with him.
"Ja, dis is possible"
he said, in a friendly, guttural German accent.
Gunter immediately took a liking to us. A young scrawny lad approached us, and started cri
ticising our form. I told him our form made us more aesthetic than him. But then he started the usual steroids accusation.
"Oi...FOOK OFF!!"
Gymbro snarled, and he roundhouse kicked him backwards onto the floor!
Gunter stood over him, laughing.
"Achtung, flabby little UNTERMENSCHEN, go away before I crush you!"
he bellowed, in a terrifyingly commanding voice, worthy of an SS GRUPPENFÜHRER.
As the boy scurried off and out the front door, whimpering and snivelling, the three of us roared with laughter!
When our Platz-level-intensity training was over, we decided to head over to a Chinese restaurant for a ridiculously large post-workout meal. It was an upscale place, and quite busy. Entering the restaurant, Gunter looked closely at his watch, then folded his arms and scanned the restaurant.
"Gentlemen, vee must secure zee table by 21:00 hours!"
he commanded.
"Say Gunter, let's 'BLITZ' that table full of what looks like Slavic people over there...and claim it for ourselves!"
I suggested.
"Ja, dis is possible!"
Gunter said, and the three of us headed over to a table of 6 and shoved them all off their chairs, snarling at each of them.
"Look out chump! Incoming ME-109!"
I chuckled, as I pulled a chair out from underneath one of them.
As they walked off, complaining, and threatening to call the police, I ripped my shirt off and hit a most-muscular at them...that scared them off!
The manager came over, cleared his throat, and just before he could ask us to leave, gymbro seized him by the tie and pulled him close so he was nose to nose with him.
"Roight, wot we want is some fookin grub, and fookin quick, get it?" Gymbro snarled, glaring into the man's face with his small, cold black eyes, which make those of a man eating shark look warm and friendly.
Terrified, the little Chinaman ran away, yelping "okay, wight away...wight away.." and the three of us leaned back in our chairs, stretched ourselves out, and basked in the glow of the intimidation we instilled in everyone else at the restaurant!
After eating more food in one sitting than the restaurant usually cooks in a night, we leaned back, and enjoyed a glass of some very potent Chinese hard liquour. Gunter got a tad pissed, and pointed to the next table.
"Ja...vee could use some LEBENSRAUM..dis table is not enough room!"
"Why yes, indeed... those half-breeds over there have no right to it, do they?"
I quipped.
"Time for BLITZKRIEG!!!"
Gunter bellowed, then stood up, staggered over to the next table, flipped it over, and started screaming like a madman.
"Go on! Get out of here! Make room for zee supermen! Schnell!"
he shouted at the 3 shocked old ladies at the table.
They fled the restaurant, and a few moments later we could see, out the window, two police cars pulling up- for us, no doubt!
Gunter glared at them, and I decided it was time for gymbro and I to make our usual escape - and leave Gunter to take responsibility for the trouble we'd caused in the restaurant.
I leaned over to Gunter, grinning, and set the stage for my and gymbro's escape.
"Gunter, old chap, looks like it's time for the 'SCHLIEFFLEN PLAN'!"
I said.
"Ja, like in dee 1914, vee overvelm dem vit our strategic attack" Gunter slurred.
"Yes, exactly. All right then. Let's say the police officers out there are France - and that kitchen door leading out the back is Belgium - you perform the frontal assault on France, while gymbro and I go round Belgium, and outflank them!"
I suggested.
Then I turned to gymbro, and informed him, in a low whisper, of our real intentions:
"Fuck Belgium, we're taking off".
Gymbro thought it was a sound idea.
I hope Gunter takes it all in stride, even as he sits in a holding cell at the police station, awaiting trial for crimes against non-lifters.
I still can't believe it. I had dinner this evening with none other than mass-monster GUNTER SCHLIERKAMP! I was working out with gymbro, when, lo and behold, there was Gunter.
Gymbro and I lumbered over and asked to work in with him.
"Ja, dis is possible"
he said, in a friendly, guttural German accent.
Gunter immediately took a liking to us. A young scrawny lad approached us, and started cri
ticising our form. I told him our form made us more aesthetic than him. But then he started the usual steroids accusation.
"Oi...FOOK OFF!!"
Gymbro snarled, and he roundhouse kicked him backwards onto the floor!
Gunter stood over him, laughing.
"Achtung, flabby little UNTERMENSCHEN, go away before I crush you!"
he bellowed, in a terrifyingly commanding voice, worthy of an SS GRUPPENFÜHRER.
As the boy scurried off and out the front door, whimpering and snivelling, the three of us roared with laughter!
When our Platz-level-intensity training was over, we decided to head over to a Chinese restaurant for a ridiculously large post-workout meal. It was an upscale place, and quite busy. Entering the restaurant, Gunter looked closely at his watch, then folded his arms and scanned the restaurant.
"Gentlemen, vee must secure zee table by 21:00 hours!"
he commanded.
"Say Gunter, let's 'BLITZ' that table full of what looks like Slavic people over there...and claim it for ourselves!"
I suggested.
"Ja, dis is possible!"
Gunter said, and the three of us headed over to a table of 6 and shoved them all off their chairs, snarling at each of them.
"Look out chump! Incoming ME-109!"
I chuckled, as I pulled a chair out from underneath one of them.
As they walked off, complaining, and threatening to call the police, I ripped my shirt off and hit a most-muscular at them...that scared them off!
The manager came over, cleared his throat, and just before he could ask us to leave, gymbro seized him by the tie and pulled him close so he was nose to nose with him.
"Roight, wot we want is some fookin grub, and fookin quick, get it?" Gymbro snarled, glaring into the man's face with his small, cold black eyes, which make those of a man eating shark look warm and friendly.
Terrified, the little Chinaman ran away, yelping "okay, wight away...wight away.." and the three of us leaned back in our chairs, stretched ourselves out, and basked in the glow of the intimidation we instilled in everyone else at the restaurant!
After eating more food in one sitting than the restaurant usually cooks in a night, we leaned back, and enjoyed a glass of some very potent Chinese hard liquour. Gunter got a tad pissed, and pointed to the next table.
"Ja...vee could use some LEBENSRAUM..dis table is not enough room!"
"Why yes, indeed... those half-breeds over there have no right to it, do they?"
I quipped.
"Time for BLITZKRIEG!!!"
Gunter bellowed, then stood up, staggered over to the next table, flipped it over, and started screaming like a madman.
"Go on! Get out of here! Make room for zee supermen! Schnell!"
he shouted at the 3 shocked old ladies at the table.
They fled the restaurant, and a few moments later we could see, out the window, two police cars pulling up- for us, no doubt!
Gunter glared at them, and I decided it was time for gymbro and I to make our usual escape - and leave Gunter to take responsibility for the trouble we'd caused in the restaurant.
I leaned over to Gunter, grinning, and set the stage for my and gymbro's escape.
"Gunter, old chap, looks like it's time for the 'SCHLIEFFLEN PLAN'!"
I said.
"Ja, like in dee 1914, vee overvelm dem vit our strategic attack" Gunter slurred.
"Yes, exactly. All right then. Let's say the police officers out there are France - and that kitchen door leading out the back is Belgium - you perform the frontal assault on France, while gymbro and I go round Belgium, and outflank them!"
I suggested.
Then I turned to gymbro, and informed him, in a low whisper, of our real intentions:
"Fuck Belgium, we're taking off".
Gymbro thought it was a sound idea.
I hope Gunter takes it all in stride, even as he sits in a holding cell at the police station, awaiting trial for crimes against non-lifters.
