Kevin Nash came to me in a dream once. I was going through a

File: kevinnash.jpg (34KB, 640x685px) Image search: [Google]

34KB, 640x685px

I tried to respond, but my charisma was so lacking that all I managed to garble out was a string of incomprehensible references to kickpads and workrate. Nash shook his head and muttered "We got a lot of fuckin' work to do."

I spent the next several days in the dream world learning the art of Big Daddy Cool. My intensive training covered the realms of economics, hair care, technical wrestling, working the marks, technically wrestling, parenting, proper hand-to-pocket technique, taser use, and grammar. I felt myself grow taller, I felt my hair grow longer, I felt my muscles reach full mass, but above all, I felt myself attain Nashmotality. I had transcended mortal marks. I was God.

When the time came for my final lesson, Nash dismissed Work back to Valhalla to wait for him, as part of the final lesson required a match between the two of us, a match that Work would undoubtedly have booked himself to interfere in if he stuck around. Nash and I entered the ring and stood nose-to-nose. In that moment, I suddenly realized that we were not alone. The previously empty arena was now absolutely packed. In fact, there were over 500,000 screaming marks holding up charts proving our draw power as signs, a further testament to the box office juggernauts Nash and I had become. The crowd roared with trepidation as they eagerly awaited our five star classic. Nash looked at me seriously and said, "This is the last fuckin' thing you need to know. The most important fuckin' lesson: Money. And miles." I nodded my head in understanding, and made my move. I poked Nash in the chest.

File: kevinnash2.jpg (58KB, 400x463px) Image search: [Google]

58KB, 400x463px

I awoke suddenly in a cold sweat and sat up in bed with a start. Before I could despair at my ascension to Godhood and elimination of my vanilla midget status being nothing but a dream, I realized that my legs where hanging off the bed. I felt the back of my head, and my luscious black locks that were not dyed at all were still intact. I threw my sheet off me, and saw that my muscles were still gigantic. It worked! My evolution had carried over from the dream world into reality!

Eager to test out my new powers, I quickly ran to the living room to find my insubordinate, neckbeard son abusing my girlfriend. I cackled with glee, and began to work a five star match. I punched my son into a corner, made him eat an elbow, tossed my hair back several times, and sidewalk slammed him through the kitchen table. A referee crashed in through the window and counted pin before I could even put a foot on his chest. It was over. I had buried my first vanilla midget.

But just before I could put my hand in my pocket in celebration and begin collecting on all the money I drew, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out, assuming it was just the President touching base on my upcoming ceremony for the Congressional Medal of Honor, but was confused when I saw this wasn't the case. The text wasn't from the President. The text was from myself. I hastily opened the message, assuming it was some sort of error. My eyes scanned the screen...and my confusion turned to terror. I felt a sudden pang of pain in both of my quads, and I collapsed to the floor. Muscles began to shrink, my hair came out in tufts, my legs shortened back to their vanilla midget status as I felt my charisma become sapped from me like a life force...the text had simply read:

"You got worked."

autism is a cruel and mysterious affliction

BBAWTS

Have Sex

This brought a tear to my eye. Keep working the out of shape smarks big sexy.

>>2586460
Worked