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NorthKoreanWarCriminal · (03-11-2016)

"HAHA Jesus Christ.

Did that punch give me a concussion or is the universe fucking joking right now?

Am I being attacked by Luchador Chris Farley?

Was that rhyming supposed to distract me from how fucking fat you are? Shouldn't you check with your doctor first to see if 'talking' is too strenuous for someone at your fitness level?

When Maya Angelou reached the afterlife, did God re-incarnate her, but took all her poetic talent out and replaced it with 'Loving the taste of Cookie Crisp cereal'?

Holy shit, did those elbow pads used to fit you?

I get that your picture is supposed to be you tearing out of your clothes. But try a different photographer, all that photo captures is 'you're too fat for those XXL Spanx'."

You look like a Fat Biology Teacher wearing a knock-off Captain Falcon costume.

You look like a kid whose make-a-wish was to be a superhero for a day, if the kid was dying from arteries clogged with HAM.

Are you supposed to be a superhero? Is your super power getting winded walking down stairs and dying in your early 40s?

Is your utility belt filled with insulin, cotton candy or cotton candy flavored insulin?

Why do you need that ill-fitting mask? Was it not hard enough to see your penis?

Shit, apologies, we're fighting... It's just so distracting... Do your flaps ever stop undulating?

Like, I'm afraid to kick out... Can I catch diabetes from touching you? Are Fun-yuns contaigious?

Fuck, it just dawned on me: that punch didn't knock me out, the smell did.

Your fist tasted like Fun Dip and years of pent-up sexual frustration.

Which, not to get personal, but that's also what your mother tasted like...

Not my proudest moment. It's hard to figure out which part to fuck when your sexual partner is perfectly spherical.

Like mother, like son, the old wisdom goes.

Speaking of your mother, when she sits around the house, she sits AROUND the house.

And when she sits AROUND a hospital, it's because diabetic neuropathy has set in and the doctor's taking her other foot.

You're calling Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un fat?

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black while riding in a rascal scooter and watching day-time television.

In True Korea, we don't have fat people. I admit, it makes us falling down less funny. And when a North Korean dies, no one can convert him into a beanbag chair.

Two points for you, gross portly Americans.

In the future XWF, we shall excise the morbidly obese Americans.

By which I mean, ALL Americans, over time.

But you first obviously. Because, FUCK.

Swan Song? To your toes maybe.

Anyway, better break this count. Only person counting to three tonight is you, counting half your chins in the mirror.

Glory to the slimming of the XWF.

Glory to Jenny Craig.

Glory to True Korea."

NKWC forces a shoulder into the air... somehow forcing the blubbery mass off!

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