Speed of lightning, roar of thunder, fighting all who rob or plunder, I'm back. That's right, Son of Gigan, AKA Crusher of Worlds, AKA The Galactic Chaos Bringer, AKA Wiggy Jiggy Jed, has returned. And none too soon by the looks of things. In my absence this blog has become corrupted with boring, derivative, mind numbing entries (well, I haven't actually READ any of the entries, but I'm sure they're boring. Especially Freefall Jones's). I've decided to break the monotony by regaling you with a fascinating tale from my childhood - the one about how I became the strapping robot stallion I am today.
Anyone fortunate enough to associate with me knows that I pump massive amounts of iron regularly in order to retain my prodigious, hippie-crushing strength. But where did this passion come from? What inspired my love of merciless steel, vein-bursting poundages, and
Zubaz workout pants? Believe it or not, a comic book.
It was a Friday night not unlike this one. Just like tonight, I consciously chose not to go outside and fraternize with the opposite sex (and just like tonight, I easily could have if I wanted to. I just didn't want to for some reason). I instead chose to read comic books. After a few hours of futilely trying to see
Silver Sable's nipples, I stumbled onto an advertisement I hadn't seen before. "Hello, what's this?" I proclaimed to the female that surely would've been at my side had I not purposely chosen to spend that Friday night alone. To this day, I am convinced that this ad was magically placed in that book, that night, solely to change my life. It was the
Charles Atlas Ad.
The magical ad spoke directly to me. Just like Mac, I too was sick and tired of being a scarecrow (an overweight scarecrow who got winded while driving to school, but a scarecrow nontheless). This ad taught me that if I ever got fed up with being picked on by a bully, I could lift weights and get huge, and that bully would stay in the exact same place wearing the exact same clothes waiting for me to punch him out. Better yet, the girl that ridiculed me when I was a fat scarecrow would also still be there, in the exact same clothes, under the EXACT same umbrella. I would've been an idiot NOT to do this.
Before the ad, I had aspirations of being an artist, a writer, or both. I drew something, or wrote a piece of fiction almost every day in hopes of getting better. Well, Charles Atlas convinced me to dump all those girly creative ambitions in favor of improving my one-rep max. I mean come on, artistic and literary virtuosity or cannonball delts - do I even need to ask?
So that was the beginning of my journey to becoming the man-mountain I am today. And looking back at the ad after all these years, I have to say.....that second frame is kind of peculiar. The bully says, "I'd smash your face, only you're so skinny you might dry up and blow away." So, he wants to smash Mac's face, presumably killing him, but he DOESN'T want him to dry up and blow away? Is he really that concerned about Mac's health? Or did he just not want to be covered in Mac's residue? Perhaps in the Bully Credo, pulverizing a man's facial cavity is accepted, but turning that man into dust particles is going too far. I guess there's a line even the Worst Nuisance on The Beach won't cross.
You know, Mac really should've asked him about that, or at least thought about it at home before knocking over his lamp and proceding to waste his life lifting weights. I mean, according to the ad, he dedicated ONE WHOLE FRAME of his existence to improving his body for the sole purpose of confronting that bully and laying him out. Think of all he could've accomplished in that time had he not been utterly consumed wth revenge. If he had just thought "Hey, this guy held back from hitting me because he was afraid of the terrible fate I would suffer. Maybe he isn't so bad," Mac may have become a productive member of society instead of a bigger meathead than the guy he knocked out. But I digress.
What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, pumping iron. While I eventually did transform myself into an earthbound adonis, I was never able to follow in Mac's footsteps and become Hero of The Beach, mainly because I'm afraid of jellyfish. But I've come a long way from that cold and lonely Friday night. Instead of reading comic books, I'm now perusing the web, where the nipples are neverending. I do periodically return to the places where I was picked on as a child, but the bullies aren't there any more. Or if they are, the cowards aren't wearing the same clothes that they used to. But don't worry about me; I make due punching out random passers by. And they, I, and all of you owe it all to Charles Atlas and his magical ad. Thank you Mr. Atlas, for making me what I am today.
-Son of Gigan
