It's Thursday night, and Betty* is at the gym again, ready to complete her fourth workout for the week. She will be working on her biceps and triceps using the various, overpriced contraptions that line the gym floor. This ritual would go almost perfectly if not for one thing: gym bitches.
"I just don't get it" quotes Betty,"only a couple of years ago I could walk into the gym and every studly, strong, attractive, cocksucker would greet me with superficial affection," she continues,"but now, the only women who get taunted with stares, hollering, and ass-grabbing are those darn gym bitches."
Betty has always used the serious approach when it comes to her social behavior at the gym. Rather than skimping her attire to a mere bra and short-shorts, she opts instead to wear long pants peaired with a cotton T-shirt. She also chooses not to sport the "come fuck me" pigtails, but instead has a simple ponytail. She even goes so far as to strip herself of overdone makeup and keeps her perfume spritzes to a minimum. As for her etiquette, she mainly keeps to herself so that she sends the message that she is a determined, dedicated, and modest young lady. "I guess it all adds to my mysteriousness," she admits,"I mean, gym bitches bounce around the room like hyenas in heat trying to gab with every male on the spot while staring at themselves in the mirror and jiggling their tits."
When asked why there has been a sudden increase in gym bitches, Betty blames an influx of treadmills, enticing membership scams, a sexier male staff, and George Bush Jr., among other things. "It didn't used to be like this," claims Betty,"I mean, there would be other women, but they would all be menopausal bitches with too much bleach in their hair. When gym bitches started coming in, all hell broke loose. Suddenly, introverted losers started becoming cockier and more obnoxious. The once friendly atmosphere of steroid freaks and gym rats became a series of superficial cliques."
Betty found it most frustrating how weak gym bitches really are. "I mean, they come in, maybe lift a five pound weight over their head, and then walk on the treadmill for ten minutes. I wish I could just accidentally drop a firty-five pound weight on their heads and watch as they explode like a water balloon." Among some of Betty's other favorite death scenarios include: Watching hair and scalp get ripped from a gym bitches' head when Betty ties their "come fuck me" pigtails to an overhead cable which is then let go. Also, especially when a gym bitch coincidentally decides to do her sets right in front of Betty so that Betty can't see herself in the mirror, Betty pictures dropping her barbell on the gym bitches' neck, causing her head to pop off like a Barbie doll, and then drop-kicking the head into the mirrors. "I like the drop-kick one the best," Betty admits,"I think it's a rather poetic way to do it. I mean, the gym bitches are obsessed with seeing themselves and making sure everyone else sees them, it only makes sense that in death they become the mirror. What I mean by "they become the mirror" is if you look at all of the shards of glass that are lodged into their eye sockets and stuff."
The only hope Betty has to end this dilemna is the few steroid-induced men who parade around half-naked and say every profanity imaginable. "I like it when the big guys get angry and start taunting people with words like "WHAT FUCKER" and "YOU FUCKING CUNT," that really scares the gym bitches. I'm a little worried though because if the gym bitches complain too much, my gym buddies might get kicked out. If it gets to be that my gym becomes a pussy pad, I'M OUTTA HERE!"
When asked what she might do if she absolutely can't take the gym bitches anymore, she replied,"That's another story, but in the mean time I had better finish my workout." Did she have any final words? "No final words for now, but would you mind spotting me on this bend-over exercise?"
*Some names have been changed for protection or some B.S. like that.
Mutha fucka gone crazy
Don't do shit, he so lazy
Boy yo ass betta pay me
No respect you juss flee
Yo kiss sting like a bee
Momma's boy, go get some tea
Who dat hottie, dat yo bro
At least he ain't a ho
Don't whine like a crow
You so slow
I saw you blow
How else dat whitey ass
Graduate wit the rest of yo class
I hear you go to mass
Play those faggity ass drums fo god
While yo priest sod-
Omize
In disguise
Yo tight hairy hole
Now everyone can know
Why yo drumstick
Look like it been lick
Drippin like precum on yo dick
You just sick
Go back to 31 flavas
Pack in dat fudge cuz
You a fuckin loser
Hittin it like a boozer
Wishin you could get some hooter
But da bitches you hit up still raw
Ain't even in a training bra
Wat you do should be against the law
I'm through wit you I had it
Go back to yo fuckin attic
You da bomb
NOT!!
Fuckin nerd
Dick smalla den a turd
You ass don't say a word
Unless it about a calculator
I'm like da Terminator
Eliminator
Fuck you up like a whore
Cuz you such a bore
I'd rather fuck a door
At least it can score,
Unlike you, you fuckin pussy
You neva had the balls to eat me
Say goodnite you freak
Have fun tryin to seek
But you know you gonna die alone
Wit yo hand taped to yo dick tryin to Bone
Trippin from all da sex you get on the Phone
Dick dryer than a fuckin cone
Crunch, crunch
Feel that punch
After you fuckin crash yo car
In the hospital cuz you fucked up yo jaw
Look like Mr. Potato head
Yo mama wish you were dead
Think yo work expose you to too much lead
Cuz of da fucked up shit you said
Like "I'm a virgin"
"cock too small to go in"
"lets wait, I don't wanna sin"
Fuck you honky go back home
And comb that bare ass dome
I look down upon you like a fuckin gnome
Don't forget it, fuck off whitey
You'll neva be good enough fo me!
